


Flipping the Script

by AngeliaDark



Series: The Swapfell Script [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Fontcest, M/M, Master/Pet, Mutilation Kink, Origin Story, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Sibling Incest, Social Anxiety, Swapfell AU, dubcon, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One is an overworked, overburdened, and depressed Captain of the Royal Guard.  The other is a timid, unappreciated beta male that's stressed 24/7.  Except behind doors, when they can be who they really are...but what happens when the line between play and reality is shattered?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Doing my take on the Swapfell origins because I'm incapable of controlling myself. OTL

Sans looked up from stirring the pot of soup he was heating on the stove when he heard the front door open, suppressing a sigh when he heard the familiar sound of a frustrated and tired groan and a metal helmet being thrown to the floor, knowing that even meatball soup wouldn't be able to fix today's events.

He turned down the heat to let it simmer; Papyrus's appetite was very delicate when he was stressed, and now he worried that the spices in the soup would be too much. He didn't voice his concerns to his brother though; what kind of Royal Guardsman got ill over rich food, SOUP even? Sometimes he thought Papyrus was much too prideful for his own health.

Sans checked the cabinets to make sure there was some medicinal tea that helped with Papyrus's stress still stocked, and was relieved when he found that there was, and hurriedly began making it while keeping an eye on the soup on the stove and the bread in the oven. After a week of being in the Capitol with that spartan food, he wanted his little brother to have something DECENT.

He glanced upward and heard the pipes run the water, and figured he had about fifteen minutes to have everything ready by the time Papyrus was out of the shower, and did another check on everything before sitting back to take a breather.

A part of him was giving a timid reminder that HE deserved some rest too, but he smothered it down as he looked at his brother's dented helmet on the floor that hadn't bothered to be picked up. What right did HE have to complain about in the labs, when his little brother was responsible for the entire Royal Guard and had to go on days-long patrols and jobs. At least Sans got to go home at the end of his work day.

Sans quietly picked up the helmet and set it on the table by the door before returning to the kitchen to take the bread out of the oven and ladle the soup into bowls, hearing the water turn off as he did so. He had the food set out and the tea poured by the time Papyrus was walking downstairs.

It was always pretty jarring when Papyrus was out of uniform. Whenever he was out of the house, it was either the armor or the formal attire, no exceptions; but when he came home and the armor came off, he preferred the sort of casual clothing Sans could remember him enjoying as a child. Well-worn jeans, comfortable shoes, and a tank top that exposed his broad frame, it was like seeing a completely new Monster.

Sans rather liked it when Papyrus was dressed down; as imposing and impressive as his brother was in uniform, he just preferred seeing Papyrus's shoulders drop and spine curve when he was home, like he could FINALLY relax and didn't have to constantly put on a face of superiority and authority. All that authority weighed his little brother down in the worst way possible, and Sans could just hate it sometimes.

Although he hadn't seen his brother when he first walked in, Sans knew that Papyrus looked much better than when he first came in after the shower. His bones, though scarred and chipped in some places, were gleaming and his orange eyelights were a little more lively. A decent meal would certainly spruce that up, that was for sure.

Papyrus sat down at the table and silently dipped a slice of the bread into the soup as a starter. Sans quietly spooned his soup and waited for Papyrus to speak first, knowing better than to initiate anything until Papyrus was sufficiently unwound, but his spoon paused halfway up to his mouth when he took a closer look at his brother.

"Oh my god, Papyrus!" he cried, almost dropping his spoon. "What happened to your tooth!?"

Papyrus's left canine was missing, one of the larger teeth that Papyrus had filed years ago; the absence was very noticeable, and a thousand horrible scenarios ran through Sans's mind as to how it happened.

The taller Skeleton let out a controlled sigh, putting the uneaten piece of bread down on the table. "It's nothing to worry yourself over, Sans," he replied, though the terseness in his voice told Sans that it WAS something unpleasant. "It doesn't even hurt anymore." He picked his bread back up and finished eating it, delving back into silence.

Sans's hands clenched in his lap, his jaw tight as he fought back the first impulse to start fretting and raving and instead seethed in wretched silence.

It would do no good to fret with concern about it. Papyrus had been in the Royal Guard for years now, and Sans learned by now that worrying over scars and bone chips wouldn't heal them or erase the marks. Worrying only stressed Papyrus out worse, and more than once that stress accumulated to blows with Sans screaming about Papyrus destroying himself with taking on the dangerous jobs and Papyrus shooting back that Sans's constant infantilizing was worse than getting the actual scars.

Sans HATED those fights, and swore off of them as best as he could. The LAST fight they had...

His hand deftly trailed up to his skull, his phalanges brushing over the small crack over his left eye socket, almost flinching at the memory of that day. Sans had brought Papyrus home for rest after the younger getting several ribs snapped and then reattached, and in a fit of worry, DEMANDED that Papyrus quit and return to sentry work. What a mistake THAT had been. Already irritable about having to take a sick leave, Papyrus snapped back with the whole 'I'm an adult and I can make my own decisions' argument, and it all erupted into one heated moment when Papyrus punched Sans in the face.

The blow was askew since Papyrus was still under the soporific effects of the pain medication, but his training-fueled punch made contact with the upper of Sans's left eye socket with enough force to crack it. It damn near drained that one HP he had.

It took nearly three days of sitting in numb silence before either felt ready to pick the pieces back up and resume their lives. Sans lived with the skull crack as a reality; it was nothing new for Monsters to have scars for some reason or the other, and in hindsight, he felt it was justified to have. He had no right to demand anything of Papyrus, as hard as his little brother had trained just to get into the Guard and all the respect he had managed to wrench from those superiors of his.

As justified as he felt to have it, he would see Papyrus looking at it with such guilt that Sans could hardly stand it. He made a point to never complain, never wanting to see that look of horror Papyrus had after hitting him ever again.

Sans lowered his gaze to his soup, not feeling very hungry anymore, but picked the spoon back up and resumed eating, wishing not for the first time that he could protect his brother from being harmed.


	2. Chapter 2

If there was one thing Papyrus hated more than anything, it was uncomfortable silence.  

And yet every time he came home, every day he spent with his brother, was mostly just that.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate silence...he craved it, for the most part.  At work, his days were spent in a never-ending drone of shouting, training, and arguments he had to suffer through with little sleep or respite.  During those times he would long for silence and stillness, and finally feel a breath of relief as soon as he stepped into Snowdin.

However...the relief was always short-lived when he entered his own home.

All of the silence he craved was here, but sometimes it would seem louder than anything else.  It screamed of emotions and subjects unspoken between him and his older brother, of things bottled up inside that they both so desperately wanted to say, but just...didn't.  He and Sans rarely spoke much anymore, only to exchange greetings or important information.  To that end, Papyrus didn't even know if anything was new in Sans's life recently, or if there was any significant strides in Sans's work in the labs.

His jaw tightened, thinking about those hellish labs.  He'd been audience to the scientists there, and couldn't think of a worse place for his brother to be employed.  

Sans was a timid person, very quiet and kinder than the average Monster by nature.  But despite his marvelous intellect and forward-thinking initiative, Sans was treated no better than a lab assistant, his rank as Royal Scientist be damned.  He was on the bottom of the social food chain, and constantly left in the shadows of more 'prominent' scientists, like Dr. Undyne.

Papyrus could empathize somewhat; their father had been a former Captain of the Royal Guard, a legendary hero of the great war, but Papyrus was not really put up to THOSE high of standards; already he had surpassed W.D. Gaster's records, including making Captain at half the elder Skeleton's age.

Instead, he was put at his OWN standards, which, if he were being honest, were worse.

It burned him up inside, though, hearing the snide comments and gossip about Sans among the science staff...that Sans was too timid, too scrupulous, such a pushover, and a beta male among literally everyone else. His older brother was a literal running joke in the Hotlands, and Papyrus HATED it.

He sometimes felt indignant of Sans's belly-up attitude; he knew for a fact that Sans was not as magically weak as the others thought, and resented the fact that Sans LET people push him around...that Sans didn't assert himself for more respect.

He even wondered why Sans didn't assert himself even at home. In their house, Sans took care of all the finances, the upkeep, the cleaning, and the cooking, not asking Papyrus to do ANYTHING. When they were younger, it would be a nearly daily argument about SOMETHING or the other, be it Papyrus forgetting to put his clothes in the laundry basket or leaving dishes in his room.

Granted, it had been out of laziness then, before Guard training knocked the untidiness out of him. Now if he forgot or neglected to do something, it was due to tiredness, but by the time he recalled or went to do it, it was already done and Sans never said a word.

Like today coming home; he KNEW his helmet had been on the floor, but it was on the table beside the door. If he elected to step outside for a cigarette, the dishes would be off the table and cleaned by the time he was back inside, and his laundry would be gathered, washed, and folded by the time he woke up from a nap.

He could recall a time when Sans had nerve and backbone and bite to his bark...hell, when he HAD a bark.....all back before they had that big fight a few years ago. GODS, he'd been so stupid...Sans's worrying was how he showed he CARED....that he gave a damn about Papyrus in this cruel world, and only wanted him to be safe. He knew that Sans didn't REALLY want him to quit the Guard, it was just being scared at how injured he had become.

But no. He had to lose his temper and scar his big brother and let EVERYONE know who did it. It plagued him with guilt every day since, making him wonder if it was HIM who took the last bit of fight left in Sans, if only so little brother Papyrus wouldn't hit him anymore.

Gods, he'd give anything to give his brother back that spark...

Papyrus finished his food, and no sooner had he put his spoon in the bowl was Sans on his feet gathering up the dishes. “I've got it, Sans,” Papyrus said, keeping his hand on the bowl. Sans tugged on the bowl a little.

“...it's fine, Papyrus,” he murmured back. “You just got home...go get some rest.”

“Sans—“

“PAPYRUS!” Sans flinched from the force of his own tone, his hand shaking as he tugged the bowl from Papyrus. “....go get some rest. I've got this.” He gathered the rest of the dishes and hurried into the kitchen, the clanking of dishwashing resounding just moments later.

Papyrus stood there, his hand still poised mid-air where it had been holding the bowl for a long moment until he clenched it, lowering it to his side and feeling a warm glow around his cheekbones.

Sans's tone had been sudden and it was honestly flustering...it was...almost nice to hear it.

Heh....how fucked up was THAT?

Papyrus sighed and fished his cigarettes out of his pocket as he headed to the backdoor for that smoke. When he returned, the dishes were washed, the kitchen and table were tidied, and he could hear Sans upstairs gathering laundry.

...yeah. It was fucked up.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Even sifting through his memories for hours on end, Sans never really knew when exactly his and Papyrus's relationship became more than strictly fraternal. Maybe it never truly was. At some point or the other, they had turned to each other for comfort from the badness outside their home, and even if it had started out innocently enough, there had just come a point in their adolescent lives where they just craved affection from someone they trusted; being that they only had each other, that was who they settled with.

Despite their uncomfortably quiet relationship, Sans and Papyrus didn't really feel the need for flowery words in the bedroom. Sharing themselves was all they had left that remained unchanged from before that fight, and it was something they strove to keep.

That wasn't to say they didn't keep TRYING in that aspect...but being that Sans had more free time to actually think about these things, he made some strides to...improve. To keep things from being stagnant and making their time together a CHORE than anything else. He often took a few trips to the garbage dump for any means he could use to spruce things up or make things interesting.

Two days ago, he had been pilfering around for anything of interest and came across a book that had a nondescript black cover that he would have normally passed up but when it slipped off of a pile of junk and opened, Sans had seen it was obviously no mere boring book.

What was inside seemed to be the literal answer to his prayers. So many things to try, so many interests to sample, and any materials were readily available or easy to make. He scarcely slept since finding the book, too busy huddled back in his bedroom studying it and making a mental note of what he thought Papyrus might enjoy.

After the house was tidied and laundry was done, Sans walked upstairs with Papyrus, feeling the taller Skeleton's anticipation roll off in waves, about as much as his own. They were hardly in the bedroom before Papyrus was tugging his shirt off, and Sans suddenly felt glad that he found the book when he did. Things always seemed to run so quickly nowadays...

“Wait, Papyrus...” Sans said, taking a step away from his brother, who went still the moment Sans spoke. He walked over to his bedside table, opening the drawer and taking out the book. “....I...found this at the garbage dump,” he said, holding it tightly to his chest. “I thought we could....you know...use it.”

Papyrus stared for a moment. “....use what? What are you talking about?” he asked. Sans sat on the bed, inviting Papyrus to join him before showing him the book.

“This,” he said, his cheekbones tinged with blue with excitement. “Just...tell me what you think, huh? Anything you'd...you know, like?”

Papyrus looked through the book, his expression running the gamut of surprised to intrigued to....unreadable. Sans felt his excitement drain as he watched Papyrus turn the pages as he browsed through the chapters, and then felt a sinking feeling when the taller Skeleton just sort of grimaced.

“It...seems like a good bit of work,” Papyrus finally said, thumbing through the last bit of the book. “I...we don't really....have to put THAT much effort into it, do we?”

Sans's shoulders dropped, feeling like he had been punched in the sternum. 'I'. Papyrus had said 'I' first, that it was too much of an effort for HIM.

Gods, had he been THAT blind? Had it really become a chore by this point? Were they REALLY that divided, their one binding relationship just....gone?

Without really thinking about it, Sans snatched the book from Papyrus's hands and wrenched the bedroom door open, bolting down the stairs and out of the house. He wasn't aware that he was crying until he was too blind to run anymore, leaning against a tree as he struggled to get a grip on his emotions.

Stupid....he was so STUPID....!

Papyrus had grown BORED of him...of THEM. And he had been too stupid to realize it.

Sans scowled, wiping his eye sockets furiously. He HATED being played for a fool; he had to endure it day after day in the labs from people he didn't even LIKE, but to have Papyrus...his own BROTHER do that to him...!

He let out a loud growl, drawing his arm back and lobbing the book over a cliff before sitting on the ground and hugging his knees.

After everything he did for Papyrus...after every word he kept to himself, every meal he cooked, dish he washed, piece of armor he cleaned, every night he would submit himself to Papyrus...and it was too much effort for PAPYRUS?

Fine. Fucking FINE, Paps.

Spare the effort.

* * *

 

Papyrus hadn't gone after Sans.

Sans hadn't stopped by Papyrus's room when he finally came home.

And the days that came after were even louder in their silence until it became unbearably deafening.

The system that they had began to crumble; Sans began making enough food for himself and letting Papyrus make his own food. Things that Papyrus had habitually left were now remaining when he went to get them. Things that were different, but tolerable.

But Sans's suffocating silence, his cold disposition, and dismissive behavior were NOT tolerable. They....hurt.

Papyrus felt HURT.

For days, he had been wondering just what he did WRONG....why Sans looked utterly heartbroken when he said he didn't want to go through all that extra...stuff.

Not that it hadn't piqued his interest, no....no, some of the things in that book were actually rather hot. If the fact that their relationship wasn't taboo enough, THOSE things were just icing on the cake.

But the thought of raising a hand to Sans, even for something that might be pleasurable....he couldn't do it. There would be NO pleasure for him if he inflicted pain on Sans.

And of course, he couldn't articulate that, and he ended up saying something that hurt Sans anyway.

Papyrus leaned against his windowsill, letting his cigarette smoke sift through the open window. He didn't have to will to leave his room until he absolute HAD to...which was normally to spend time with Sans. But Sans didn't want anything to do with him now. There was no reason to leave.

He hated times like this; more than once, he had time off from work and Sans was stuck in the labs during times when all hands were needed on a big project, and he was utterly alone. This was no better than those times of loneliness, only now it was WORSE since Sans was willingly refusing to acknowledge his presence.

He polished off his fourth consecutive cigarette, hoping that at some point he'd succumb to a nicotine coma but knowing he wouldn't. It was the most minimum of distraction he could muster up as he waited for either his short days off were over, or until Sans decided to talk to him again.

Distractions were a necessity for minds like his. It was like a motion machine that needed to be in constant movement or it would power down completely. So be it either something big like training and peacekeeping or small like interacting with his brother or chain smoking, it kept him moving and minutely distracted from himself.

Papyrus rubbed his free hand over his eye sockets, feeling the weight of his physical and mental fatigue creep up on him; he hadn't been able to sleep at all since that altercation, and the reasonings behind it only added more to the burden. It was like a heavy blanket of blackness that latched on and refused to let go, no matter what he did or how he acted. Usually...only Sans was able to ease that burden. His brother's smile, touches, holds...it made it easier to get up in the morning and get back to work.

That motion machine in his head was slowing to a dull crawl that made time sludge by and put weight on his bones, making him barely able to raise his cigarette to finish it off completely before his hand dropped on the windowsill, the very last of it snuffing out in the cold air. _'Perfect analogy for my life,'_ he thought bitterly. Wouldn't it just be something if his soul snuffed out too, his dust sifting in the air like the ashes until it was indistinguishable from the snow.

Who would care? Alphys would just take his spot as Captain. She'd been eyeing his job for awhile now. The other Guardsmen certainly wouldn't care. He had no real friends to speak of, and Sans...

….Sans....

…........would Sans even care?

Did Sans even care NOW?

God, what a sobering thought that was NOT helping the gears in his head turn any faster.

What DID make the gears rev up was the thought of leaving his room. Going downstairs. Finding Sans. Apologizing for whatever it was he did. Hugging his brother until that heavy proverbial blanket was unburdened from his shoulders, and things being okay again.

_Do it._

_Get up, you lazybones._

_Go to Sans._

_Do it NOW, before you shut down forever!_

Papyrus was out of his room before he even realized what he was doing, taking two steps at a time down the stairs, his brother's name dying halfway out of his mouth when he saw the coat missing from the coat rack and the house dead quiet.

Sans was gone.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Sans rarely spent any extended amount of time in the town other than for shopping purposes, but every once and awhile he would stop by Muffet's for a treat (sitting in the back booth to avoid unwanted conversation, naturally).

Even rarer still did he stop by Muffet's to get absolutely shitfaced drunk.

Sans preferred to do his drinking at home...not that he had a problem, no. He had an occasional overindulgence....yeah, that sounded more accurate. It wasn't like he hid bottles around the house and drank behind Papyrus's back, but even if he DID, what the fuck did it matter? It wasn't like he owed Papyrus any explanation for his coping vices. Sometimes, he just wanted to be numb and forget everything, including the fact that he was a laughingstock punching bag in the labs and that he had the thankless task of making sure Papyrus had a halfway-decent home to return to.

Today, he didn't bother hiding back in the booths; he planted himself right up front in the bar, slapped down his gold, and told Muffet to leave the bottle. That was three bottles ago, and right now, he was feeling preeeeeetty good. He called for an order of fries—by this time, Muffet knew it was more like a bowl of mustard with a few fries sprinkled on top—and pushed forward more gold when it came.

“Lotta thanks, Muffet,” he slurred, fishing out a fry. Muffet rolled her eyes, snatching up the gold.

“I'm cutting you off, Sans,” she said, pocketing the gold and putting half her hands on her hip. “You've already taken three of my best liquors, and I'm not getting another shipment for six days. Finish your mustard and go home.”

Sans growled, but sloppily drained the bowl and wiped his face with his sleeve, slipping off of the bar stool. “Yer booze tastes like shit anyway, spider bitch,” he muttered, stumbling out of the restaurant and to the direction of his house. No matter how drunk he got, he always knew where his house was—five buildings away from Muffet's, with the front light being a bluish color.

Gods, he hoped he left the door unlocked.

Sans stumbled up the porch and rattled the doorknob before managing to turn it, walking in and all but slamming the door behind him. He wrestled his coat off and tossed it in the general direction of the coat rack, heading to the kitchen and wrenching open a few cabinets until he found the one that held his own one bottle of cheap, weak alcohol, grabbing it and guzzling it back.

“Sans?”

Sans looked over, some of the liquid spilling over his jaw when he glanced up to see Papyrus standing in the kitchen doorway. He wiped his mouth, scowling. “The fuck do you want?” he grumbled.

Papyrus's hand clenched in the door frame, an almost unnoticeable flinch flashing on his features. “...where were you?” he asked. “You were gone, and I...didn't know where you were.”

Sans snorted, tipping back the bottle again before answering. “I was out,” he replied testily. “I DO that sometimes. I don't just....stay here in th' house waiting to serve your ass, y'know.” He paused to drain the rest of the bottle. “Maybe if ya actually got off yer lazy ass an' DID somethin' every once an' awhile, you'd know that.”

“Hey!” Papyrus said, scowling. “I was just WORRIED about you, you ass! No need to get nasty!”

Sans let out a bark of laughter. “WORRIED!?” he drawled loudly, swaying on his feet a little. “Ohhh, wow, the GREAT PAPYRUS was WORRIED about lil' ol' Sansy th' Pansy!” He scoffed, giving Papyrus an unfocused glower. “What th' FUCK do you CARE, anyway?”

Papyrus reared back as though he'd been slapped. “....w...what do I care?” he said, his voice soft but rock hard. “WHAT do I CARE!? I CARE ABOUT _YOU_ , YOU ASSHOLE! I didn't know WHAT I did to upset you, but I came down here to APOLOGIZE, and YOU WEREN'T HERE! You're ALWAYS here, and I was WORRIED!”

“Oh, what, did yer fuckin' sock fall on th' floor an' I wasn't here to pick it up for you?” Sans mocked back. “You POOR THING. Gods forBID I'm not here t' wait on you hand an' foot, CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL FUCKIN' GUARD!”

_CRACK_

Papyrus's eyes widened, regretting .3 seconds after slapping Sans's face for doing so. The silence after that strike was the worst thing he'd ever heard, and it sent him into instant panic mode. “....oh my gods, Sans, I'm so sorry, I—“

_**CRASH** _

Papyrus was sent right to the floor when Sans smashed his alcohol bottle into his face, glass flying everywhere. Papyrus laid there frozen for a long moment, trying to comprehend what just happened, then raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling deep scratches on his maxilla, right over the still-sensitive area where his fang had been beaten out. “...S....Sans....” he stammered, lifting his eyelights to his older brother just in time to see Sans swipe his foot out and kick him in the head.

Sans's hands clenched and unclenched, his breath coming out in short, uneven heaves as he glowered down at his brother, his own eyelights blazing in their sockets. There was a burning in his soul that fed acidlike fire into his bones, making his hands twitch with the urge to HURT. BEND. BREAK.

All the agony that had been piled onto his shoulders, all the guilt and hurt and anger that had built up had reached its limit, and he was DONE SHOULDERING IT. This ungrateful, lazy ASSHOLE just pressed the WRONG FUCKING BUTTON, and by GODS, Sans wasn't going to suppress it anymore!

Sans reached down and grabbed Papyrus by the shirt, dragging him out of the kitchen. Papyrus shifted as he was dragged, rubbing his throbbing head. “....Sans, what—“

“Shut th' fuck up,” Sans said, his voice even but hard as diamond as he dragged Papyrus to the living room and threw him back into the couch. The back of Papyrus's head hit the wall, making him see stars for the third time today.

“Shit, Sans—!”

“I said...” Sans hissed, holding up his hand and turning Papyrus's soul blue, pulling him forward slightly before shoving him back again hard. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He bore down heavily on the blue magic, pinning Papyrus back on the couch.

Papyrus tried to shake off the swimming in his head, jerking under the blue weight on his soul, barely able to move. He could barely believe that Sans's proficiency in blue magic was THIS strong. He struggled to sit up through the blue hold, only to be shoved back, Sans's hand clenched firmly around his neck.

“Did I SAY you could move!?” Sans growled, squeezing the vertebrae tightly. “YOU don't get t' do ANYTHING without me tellin' ya, Papyrus! You should be fuckin' USED to it by now!” His free hand grabbed his pants and undid them. “Form a tongue.”

Papyrus's eyelights constricted, jerking again against the force of the blue hold, then gagged when Sans squeezed his neckbones again and leaned down until there was barely an inch of space between their skulls. “Do NOT fuckin' test me, Papyrus,” Sans hissed. “You don't even KNOW how fuckin' close I am t' bashin' yer skull in an' bendin' ya over th' couch. So keep yerself STILL, form a fuckin' tongue, an' DON'T. FUCKIN'. TEST ME AGAIN.”

Papyrus's bones rattled slightly as his frame trembled, his jaw lowering as magic pooled in his mouth, forming an orange tongue. Within moments, Sans had his teeth pressed to Papyrus's, his own constructed tongue entwined sloppily around it. The hand around his neck began constricting and relaxing, Sans's thumb pressing between the bones and into the disk, making Papyrus gag again.

Sans leaned back slightly, licking over his teeth as he eyed his brother almost hungrily. “See what happens when ya listen?” he said. “I can be NICE, Paps.” His hand tightened around the vertebrae. “Don't ya WANT me to be nice?”

A tear drizzled down Papyrus's cheekbone as he gave a brief little nod. Sans grinned, shifting to stand on the couch cushions so his pelvis was level with Papyrus's face. “If ya want me to be nice, then you'll do EXACTLY what I tell ya,” he said, letting go of Papyrus's neck to grab the back of his skull instead. “So instead of usin' yer mouth to backtalk me, put it to some GOOD use.”

Papyrus gave another short nod, slithering his tongue from between his teeth and putting it to work around the more sensitive areas of Sans's pubic bones. Sans let out a loud moan, pressing Papyrus closer as he threw his head back.

“SHIT—“ he hissed, arching his hips forward. “Should've......made y'do this...AGES ago....!” A drag of Papyrus' tongue across his ischium almost had his legs giving out, leaning his body forward to rest his free hand against the wall, feeling his magic coalesce in his pelvis and around Papyrus's tongue.

Papyrus clenched his eye sockets shut, squirming his tongue harder as he felt Sans's phalanges clench painfully into the back of his skull. His hands and arms were still being weighed down heavily by the blue hold on his soul, and all he could do was clench his hands into the couch fabric and use what he COULD move to try to push his brother over the edge as quickly as possible to end this.

He was scared. He was legitimately and admittedly scared. This was something new and terrifying and he felt helpless, at Sans's complete mercy. If he had been less wracked with guilt and worry, more rested and aware, he would be able to break through the blue magic, but instead he was weak and pitiful and—

Sans let out a keening wail above him, loud and drawn out with enough force for Papyrus to feel it rattle through Sans's bones and ectoplasm. Papyrus flicked his eyelights up, seeing Sans's face flushed dark blue, his ectoplasmic tongue hanging from between his jaws, and blue eyelights glimmering brightly.

—more turned on than he'd ever been in his life.

Not in all their time together did Papyrus every hear those sounds from Sans, see this kind of reaction, and JUST from using his TONGUE! Gods, was THIS what Sans had been hinting at before?

Papyrus shoved his guilt to the back of his mind, pressing in closer and dragging his tongue over the tip of Sans's coccyx, hoping to hear more of those sounds from Sans, and was not disappointed. Sans's voice shot up an octave, his bones rattling as Papyrus felt a surge of magical wetness coat his tongue and jaw. The blue magic holding Papyrus's soul was lifted in that instant, and Papyrus's hands shot up to catch his brother before he fell.

Sans's whole frame shook, none of his limbs really wanting to function momentarily, and allowed himself to slump against Papyrus as he recovered, feeling the rush drain from him as fatigue settled in. For the life of him, his reason for being mad was being drowned in the drunken haze in his skull, and all he wanted to do now was sleep. Yeah, sleep sounded like a good idea now, he hadn't done that in a good while...

He let his body relax for the first time in what seemed like forever, only deftly aware of a warm hand petting his skull and lulling him further into sleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sans groaned as he slowly woke up, his head pounding with pain and swimming with nausea. Gods, he hated drinking himself stupid and dealing with the hangovers, and yet here he was again, lesson not learned.

He sat up, pressing a hand to his skull and praying he still had some hangover remedy left in the cabinets to ease this before he had to run his errands.

Like restocking his liquor stash for the NEXT time he'd do this.

Just a glutton for this punishment, aren't ya, Sans?

Sans sighed heavily, forcing himself more awake through the glare of light outside...which made him give pause. …....his bedroom had thick curtains that blocked out all light. Why the hell would it be this bright...?

His eyelights shimmered as his vision focused, seeing that he wasn't in his bedroom, he was instead in the living room, on the couch. He was situated in a slightly uncomfortable position wedged in the corner of the arm and back of the couch, made even more uncomfortable since the remote for the TV was wedged between his femur and ischium.

…....for that matter, where were his pants?

Sans rubbed his eye sockets, looking down at his bare pelvis and felt a flush of shame over his cheekbones when he saw the residual blue-tinted magic stains on his femurs and pelvis. He scrambled around for his pants, pausing when he peeked over the side of the couch and saw his brother curled up on the floor.

Papyrus? What was he doing down there? What even was...

…...what.......

….........was staining Papyrus's mouth?

Sans rubbed his eye sockets again, peering closer and seeing that Papyrus's teeth and jaws were stained the same blue as his own bones, and the implications were only piling up worse. He only had a moment to connect the dots before last night's situation came crashing back to him with enough force to literally throw him back against the couch, pressing his hands to his mouth in horror.

_Getting drunk at Muffet's._

_Coming home._

_Yelling at Papyrus._

_Bashing a bottle into Papyrus's face._

_Dragging Papyrus to the couch._

_Holding him down with blue magic._

_Making him..._

_…....FORCING him to......._

Sans scrambled off of the couch, stumbling over Papyrus on the floor as he bolted for the bathroom, barely making it to the sink as a backlash of magic forced its way up, making him vomit it out. The white sink became splattered with blue magic sludge, nearly filling it after two more heaves that left his skull pounding.

His hands clenched tightly into the sides of the sink, his whole body shaking violently as he stared at himself in the mirror. He hated what he saw.

He saw a goddamn drunk.

He saw a violent asshole.

He saw someone who forced his little brother—

_—and LIKED IT._

“Sans?”

Sans jerked away from the sink, crashing back against the wall as his soul pounded in his chest, seeing Papyrus standing in the bathroom door frame staring at him with worried eyelights

_—and a mouth stained with blue magic residue—_

“Sans?”

_You forced your little brother and you LIKED it._

“Sans, please, what's wrong?”

_YOU DIRTY BROTHER-RAPER!_

“SANS!”

Sans's head jerked up when he felt Papyrus's hands on his shoulders. Papyrus's face was close to his, close enough so Sans could practically smell his own magic on Papyrus's mouth—

He retched again, shoving past Papyrus and making it to the sink in time to vomit up another wave of residue, droplets of his own tears falling into the mix. He became deftly aware of Papyrus rubbing his scapulae comfortingly

_His own hands holding Papyrus's head to his pelvis—_

Sans heaved again, but he was drained out, only able to cough and blubber helplessly against the sink. Papyrus said nothing, just standing beside him and rubbing his scapulae until the shaking subsided, then the taller Skeleton gently pulled Sans from the sink and leaned back against the wall, sliding down to the floor and holding his older brother to him quietly.

Neither brother said anything to the other for the longest time, the silence dragging on for what seemed like hours before Papyrus's hold on Sans tightened just enough to get the older Skeleton's attention.

“...I...didn't mean to upset you, Sans....” he said quietly. “....I didn't know....it was that important to you...”

Sans rubbed his temples, his head throbbing now from his nerves and the hangover and his own self-disgust. “....how the fuck can you even TOUCH me?” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “...how can you APOLOGIZE to ME? After I....I....” His body began to shake again, Papyrus's arms tightening around his frame.

“....did you....like it?”

_WHAT._

“WHAT?!” Sans turned in Papyrus's hold to look his brother in the eyelight, trying his damnedest not to look at the residue that was STILL staining Papyrus's mouth. “Papyrus, what the FUCK—“ He rubbed his eye socket furiously. “For fuck's SAKE, Papyrus, I...I fucking RAPED you—!”  
  
“Sans, no—“

“YES!” Sans buried his face in his hands. “PAPYRUS, I FORCED MYSELF ON YOU! HOW CAN YOU EVEN ASK ME THAT!?”

Papyrus was silent for a moment. “...because....you really.....REALLY seemed to like it...” he replied, his cheekbones dusted with orange. “And...I mean....I....” He trailed off, raising one hand to deftly scritch at his skull. “....is...that what you were talking about earlier? With that book? Because you really seemed to like it—“

“NO!” Sans shouted, more to himself than to Papyrus. “NO NO NO NO NO! That's NOT how it's SUPPOSED to work!” Tears leaked out of his eye sockets, his shoulders shaking. “It's....it's not supposed to BE like that!”

Papyrus frowned, hugging Sans to him. “......but isn't that what we did? What you WANTED?”

“YES—NO—I don't KNOW!” Sans wailed, clutching at his skull tightly. “Papyrus, I SHOULDN'T have LIKED it!”

“But you did.”

“I SHOULDN'T HAVE!” His breathing came out in heaves, sounding ill again. “That....what I wanted to do....it's not just ABOUT forcing myself on you!” He curled up on himself, trying to settle down. He took several deep breaths before exhaling heavily. “...it...wasn't supposed to be like that.”

Papyrus nodded quietly, petting Sans's head. “...then...what WAS it supposed to be like?” he asked. Sans's body sagged, feeling emotionally defeated, not even sure he knew entirely himself.

“...it's....supposed to be trusting...” he said after a few long moments. “....it's not just about me...or about you....it's...something we're BOTH supposed to like. But...I fucking SCREWED it up! I shouldn't have forced you—GODS, how can you even STAND me after what I did!?”

Papyrus's cheekbones turned a darker orange at the memory of last night, of being at Sans's mercy, hearing those sounds wrenched from his big brother....

“I liked it.”

Pause.

Sans lifted his head from his hands, staring at his brother with incredulous confusion. “....what?” he demanded softly. “....just....fucking WHAT!? NO, Papyrus, that wasn't RIGHT!”

“But I liked it.”

“YOU SHOULDN'T!”

“YOU liked it!”

“I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO!”

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE, SANS, THEN WHAT DO WE DO SO WE SHOULD!?” Papyrus clenched his hands into Sans's shoulders tightly, more than confused himself by this point. “I'm getting a LOT of mixed signals here, Sans, and...just....” He heaved a sigh. “......just tell me, Sans. I didn't listen then, but I'm listening NOW. Tell me what you want...tell me what you like.....so I don't end up hurting you again.”

Sans let out a hysterical laughing sob, rubbing his eye sockets hard. “....gods....” he muttered, shaking his head. “.....I shouldn't.....I'm so fucked up....” He ducked his head again, curling up tighter. “....so fucked up....”

Papyrus held Sans to him, sighing. “....then I'm fucked up too,” he replied. “We both are. And if that's what we are, then that's what we are. I just...don't want to hurt you anymore, Sans. I've done that enough.”

Sans said nothing, holding his throbbing skull in his hands. He remained quiet for the longest time while Papyrus just held him, and then he finally spoke. “...I need a shower....” he mumbled.

“Then I'll run you a shower,” Papyrus replied, holding Sans tighter as he rose off the floor.

“...need something for my hangover.”

“I'll fix it for you while you're showering.” Papyrus reached over and turned the shower on, setting Sans on his feet. “But when you're out of the shower and take your medicine...we're talking, okay?”

Sans sighed heavily as he nodded, feeling a shudder run down his spine when Papyrus leaned down and pressed his jaw to his skull comfortingly before leaving Sans to it. Sans tugged off his shirt and climbed into the shower, leaning against the wall as he let the hot water rush over his bones, watching as the residual magic washed off of his bones and down the drain, wishing his shame would go down with it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sans and Papyrus sat across from each other at the table, both nursing cups of the strongest medicinal tea they owned—a blend for Sans's hangover migraine and another for Papyrus's nerves—and weighed out what they wanted to say, and how to say it. After several long moments of silence, Sans spoke first.

“...that book had...things I wanted to do...” he said slowly, staring down into his almost-empty cup.

Papyrus nodded slowly. “...why?” he asked softly.

Sans took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “...I love what we have, Papyrus,” he replied. “I love being with you as a brother, and as a lover. I trust you with...with my body and my soul. You're the ONLY one I trust like that. But...it feels like...when you're home...and we're together....it's...become more of a chore than anything else.”

Papyrus's jaw tightened slightly, sitting back in his chair. “...a chore...?” he mirrored back. “Why would you think that?”

“Because we go right in, we do it, and...it's over,” Sans said, rubbing his nasal bone. “Like it's...something you get out of the way just to get it over with.”

“Sans, that's not true!” Papyrus replied vehemently. “I...gods, Sans, if it feels like I'm rushing it's because you're the ONE thing I look forward to when I FINALLY have time off!” His cheekbones glowed a soft orange. “...I...just can't wait to be with you, is all...” He trailed off, his fingers tightening over his cup. “....but....I don't suppose I ever gave that impression...”

Sans sighed, draining the rest of his cup. “....no,” he admitted. “You didn't. I thought you were bored of me.”

“Never, Sans—!”

“So I just...I mean...I guess....I was bored....no,” Sans rambled off. “...I wasn't bored of YOU, I was....I wanted MORE....not just for me!” he added quickly. “...for US. I thought...you would be into it....y'know, being Captain and all...”

Papyrus stared down at his cup, his expression suddenly contemptuous. “....you're wrong,” he said, his voice turning dark as his hands tightened around the cup. “...I...didn't want that...”

“...but in the bathroom, you said—“

“I said I liked what YOU did, not that I would want to DO it,” Papyrus clarified, then raised a hand and pressed it to his face. “Sans, I come home to be with you! To take off that stupid armor, put down my title, and RELAX.” He pushed the cup away, a small amount sloshing over the top.

“For days on end, I have no rest as I'm running an entire Royal Guard, settling disputes, collecting taxes, running errands, breaking up fights, overlooking training, and giving orders NONSTOP. I am responsible for what feels like the entire goddamn kingdom, why the FUCK would I want to be in charge when I'm at HOME!?”

He went quiet, and Sans felt his hands shaking, quickly clenching them around his empty cup in an attempt to quell it. “...so....you're tired...” Sans said quietly.

Papyrus sighed. “Not of YOU,” he reiterated gently. “Never of you. But yes, Sans....if...you feel like I don't care or that I'm...not putting any effort into ANYTHING....that's why. I'm just so...goddamn TIRED....ALL the TIME....and...being with you is the only thing that keeps me going anymore.”He rubbed his face, giving Sans a helpless look.  "...Sans...it's not that I don't WANT to be with you, or try new things, but...being in charge ALL THE TIME...I can't do it.  I just can't."

Sans tightened his jaw slightly, flexing his fingers into the cup, feeling a glow of blue heat on his cheekbones.  "...is...that why you...said you LIKED what I did...?" he asked delicately.  "Because...you weren't the one in charge?  Do you...actually LIKE that?"  His eyelights flicked upward, seeing Papyrus's face turn orange.  "...holy shit, that IS why, isn't it?"

"I thought we were talking, not accusing!" Papyrus shot back, a tone of embarrassment lacing his voice.  

"No!  No, I'm not...accusing anything, Paps...!" Sans quickly interceded.  "I'm just....I didn't think that YOU of all people would...y'know...like THAT."

Papyrus frowned.  "...what do you mean?" he asked.  "Sans....I just basically told you that I hate my job and all of the responsibility it makes me have.  I can barely remember a time before all of this, when I was just a small bones and I didn't have bills, taxes, training, and organization to deal with!  When I didn't have Father's legacy riding my back and I could just...” He gestured helplessly. “...just be the little brother.”

Sans looked down at the table, mulling over Papyrus's words, starting to connect some dots and seeing that Papyrus's lackadaisical demeanor around the house wasn't due to laziness, but instead to tiredness. He knew that Papyrus was tired, but to hate his job and have to endure it for the sake of keeping up some convoluted expectations...

….and coming home to Sans was the only thing that made it all worth it....

Sans rubbed his face, letting out a heavy sigh. “....Papyrus...” he said softly. “...be honest with me. Just...how badly do you hate everything?”

Papyrus leaned back in his chair, silent for a few long moments before he fished his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one up, resting his head in one hand, the very image of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. “....enough that....if I knew for sure you could live without me...I'd off myself without hesitation,” he replied. He rubbed his nasal bone, then took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke sifting out through his teeth.

“...I meant what I said, Sans...you're the only thing that keeps me going. You are my whole world. But...sometimes...the whole world feels so heavy on my shoulders...and sometimes I just want to lie down and never get back up again if it means I have to go through a ton of shit just to hold that one spark of light for a few brief moments before doing it all over again. And...and knowing that I sometimes...smother that light with my temper...just out of frustration...” His eye sockets welled softly with tears. “...it kills me inside, Sans...it makes...makes me feel like I do more harm than good with you...like I'm the worst brother in the world...just a goddamn BURDEN...!”

He sighed, taking several long moments to finish off his cigarette and grind it out. “...so I feel....righteous relief....when you raise your voice...when you strike back....when you...” His cheekbones had a faded glow of orange. “...when you...put me in my place....under you, where the little brother belongs.”

Sans was torn between tears at his brother's obvious pain and full-faced blushing from that last statement, not knowing which one he felt more strongly for. On the one hand his little brother was in pain, and had suicidal tendencies that only his attention and love kept at bay.

….on the other hand...to hear Papyrus say that he LIKED what Sans did...WHY he liked it... _oh gods, keep it together, Sans, there's a time and a place for everything...._

Papyrus didn't want to be the one in charge...he wanted to be the little brother, the subservient one, to be ordered and pinned down and controlled and _for fuck's SAKE, not NOW—!_

“Is that what you really want, Papyrus?” he found himself asking, his voice coming from that little dark corner of his mind where the worst of his thoughts and emotions came from, where he shoved away all of his selfish intentions and ideas that always begged to come out and play. His hands clenched together, wondering if he should just stop talking before it made things worse. “...do you want me to be the big brother again? Do you want me to tell you what to do, how to do it, and punish you if you don't?” _Oh my GODS, SHUT UP!_ “Because I can do that. Because I WANT that.”

_SANS, YOU GODDAMN FUCKING SON OF A—_

“Yes.”

_WHAT._

“What?”

Papyrus's face was orange, his expression almost...coy. “If...that's what you were REALLY wanting before...with us...then yes.” His eyelights flicked up to Sans. “...I'd like to try what you were showing me.”

Sans's face had to be as blue as his brother's was orange, both from embarrassment and...excitement. The fact that Papyrus liked what he did—well, more like HOW he did it—and that HE did too....maybe. Yeah, maybe it COULD work out...right?

“...okay,” he said, not even able to keep the anticipation out of his own voice. “...okay, we....we can try that.” He gave Papyrus a half-smile, and was a little flustered when Papyrus returned it full-force. Gods, he hadn't seen a smile like that on Papyrus in what seemed like YEARS....

“Okay.” Pause. “...Right now?”

“Now? Really?” Sans rubbed the back of his skull. “...um......sure...we can...go through the terms and stuff....dammit, shouldn't have thrown the damn book away...”

“Where?”

“...over a cliff. But I remember a lot of it! I even took notes!”

“You took notes.”

“Don't judge me.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

When the book explained that beginning this type of relationship was very trial-and-error, it wasn't kidding in the least.

The next several hours were spent just going over whatever notes Sans had managed to take, and listing off several things either might be interested in and finding that 98% of the things he had pegged out for Papyrus were duds. He was still sort of reeling over the fact that Papyrus was practically begging to be a sub, but he was also finding himself excited at the brand new prospect of being the dominant force in all this.

The book had stressed the responsibilities of being a good dom, however, and Sans was taking it to heart. The last thing he wanted was to misplace Papyrus's trust, regardless of the fact that Papyrus apparently got off on being used by him. There had to be boundaries to avoid things going too far, and the first thing he insisted on was a safeword.

They both agreed on 'reset' being the safeword, not something either would just blurt out accidentally, and Sans found it weirdly appropriate, like anything they did could be erased and restarted back at ground zero if need be.

As far as do's and don'ts went, that was going to be a work in progress, much like the limits of what either could take. Starting vanilla and working their way up seemed best, building up trust into trying out the more intense things later.

It seemed to be working out just fine, Sans came to find. Papyrus submitted with absolute trust after saying the safeword several times, sometimes in the middle of regular sex, and Sans would stop. As frustrating as that had been, seeing the relief and barefaced trust on Papyrus's face made it completely worth it.

Those expressions of Papyrus's were generally what got him through his days at work, able to recall them whenever he needed a distraction from the continuous hazing while he tried to focus on his work.

It was a bittersweet recollection; Papyrus's love and trust was intermingled with the worse aspects of Papyrus's life, recalling Papyrus telling him about his own hellish work day and how much he hated it, and how he wanted to END it—

...but the fact that he made Papyrus's life BETTER...made it WORTH living....THAT made it worth getting several piles of grunt work shoved onto his desk to finish before he could leave for home. Because he knew that what awaited him was worth it all.

* * *

 

Papyrus wasn't home.

And he wasn't home the next night.

Or the next.

And Sans began to get frustrated, anxious, and more than a little angry with basically every aspect of his life.

It wasn't Papyrus's fault; even during designated off days, Papyrus was often called back in to do something someone else was too incompetent to do. Sans knew that his little brother was the most capable person in the Guard, always patient, poised, and never rushing to do the job, and do it RIGHT. That being said, he was in constant demand, and those last few days off he had with Sans were very, very rare.

It made Sans take a mental note to tell Papyrus that the Guard should be raising their standards, if they required one person to fix EVERYTHING.

Sans kept that mental note on reserve for a long time, because Papyrus was gone for almost two straight weeks.

And the bullshit that kept piling up made the wait all the more unbearable.

Between staying late at the labs to finish off superfluous paperwork and double-checking, Undyne making him look through endless clips of Mettaton and Napstaton's routines to find [invisible] flaws that need fixing, and somehow finding time to do his own work on Void physics for an upcoming work review, Sans was in desperate need of something to put his hands around and squeeze until it stopped moving.

He fought to make his memories of Papyrus work, to keep him calm, to give him something to look forward to—

_—bashing Papyrus across the face with a glass bottle—_

Sitting together and discussing what they might like...

_—kicking the fucker and putting him in his place—_

….starting out slow....

_—forcing him to submit—_

….......gentle touching..........

_—commanding him to Sans's will—_

….........................................oh gods.................

_—and having the greatest goddamn orgasm of his LIFE._

Sans nearly broke the keyboard punching out his time card on the computer, snatching his bag and stalking out of the lab, barely waiting until he felt Hotlands's blasting heat before teleporting back to Snowdin. The icy coolness on his bones soothed the almost hungry heat that radiated from his soul, but not by much as he stomped through the snow to his house, deftly thinking that he'd probably stop by Muffet's for a drink—or six—but he paused in the snow when he saw the upstairs light on.

Papyrus was home.

Sans broke into a run, rushing through the door and dragging snow into the house as he looked around wildly. His soul pounded in his rib cage, filling his bones with a searing fire that was driving him to find Papyrus and—

He forced his drive back, closing the door and dropping his bag and lab coat on the floor, already sensing Papyrus's soul upstairs. He forced himself to NOT run, heading upstairs and to his bedroom, seeing pieces of armor having been slung off and dropped en route like a tantalizing trail to follow.

Ugh, this should NOT be that arousing.

He opened his bedroom door, any greeting dying in his mouth when he saw Papyrus.

His little brother was stripped of his armor and underclothes, bones littered with scrapes and chips and bruises, most of which Sans was absolutely CERTAIN were not present the last time he saw Papyrus. But what really struck him was that Papyrus was curled up tightly, his frame shaking so hard Sans could hear bones rattling.

Sans hurried over, his hands hovering over Papyrus's body, unsure of whatever he did would do more harm than good. “Oh gods, Papyrus...” he murmured, trying to find the source of what was causing such a reaction. His hands trembled, easing them closer to Papyrus's bones, wanting to know why Papyrus was so fragile, so hurt, so

_—deliciously malleable._

Fuck, shut UP!

“Papyrus, please....” He gently touched Papyrus's arm. “Tell me wha—“

He was cut off when Papyrus let out a bone-rattling purring moan, the taller Skeleton's whole frame shaking under Sans's touch. Sans froze, staring down at Papyrus in shock.

_WHAT._

“S...Sans...” Papyrus lifted his head, his eyelights glowing brightly as he looked up at his older brother. “Sans...please....!” His hands lifted, gripping at Sans's shirt and tugging hard enough to pop a button off, pulling Sans down to press their teeth together. Sans snapped out of his stupor, grabbing Papyrus's wrists and pinning them back, forming his tongue to swipe over Papyrus's teeth. Papyrus's jaw went slack, forming his own tongue to snake out and curl around Sans's, his bone-rattling purring getting louder.

Sans traced his tongue over Papyrus's teeth and maxilla, seeing that the crack over where Papyrus's missing tooth was having gotten larger. He made a mental note to commission a replacement before sitting up, licking his own teeth as he stared hungrily down at his brother.

Papyrus looked so utterly cracked and ready to be shattered, his soul pulsing in his rib cage and his skull damp with sweat and barely-shed tears, looking both at his wit's end and desperate for whatever Sans had to give.

_So beautiful, so innocent...so ready to be DESTROYED...!_

Sans gave his head a tiny shake, letting go of Papyrus's left wrist and putting his hand on Papyrus's face instead, tracing his thumb over the maxilla crack. “...rough couple of weeks, Papyrus?” he asked, his voice coming out more infantilizing than he had intended, but if anything, Papyrus seemed to APPRECIATE the babying, giving Sans a small nod and even sniffled like a child.

“....it's too much, Sans...” Papyrus murmured, leaning his head to Sans's hand. “I hate it so much...I hate being in charge so much....!” Tears leaked out of his eye sockets. “I feel....like I'm...going to fucking BREAK...!”

“Shhhh...” Sans shushed, smiling down at him. “Just tell me what you want, Papy....big brother will take care of you.”

Papyrus sniffled again, flicking his eyelights to Sans, the glow wavering but determined. “...hit me.”

THAT gave Sans some pause. “...what?” he asked, caught off guard.

“H...hit me,” Papyrus repeated, squirming slightly under Sans. “....hit me....c..choke my cervicals....force me down with blue magic—“

“Reset.” Sans let go of Papyrus and sat back on the bed next to him, his hands clenching tightly into the duvet. Papyrus paused before sitting up, looking confused.

“...Sans....?”

“Why....would you want me to DO that, Papyrus...?” Sans said, looking over Papyrus's still-injured bones. “You're.....you're already HURTING, Papyrus....and I couldn't just—“

“Because you WANT to,” Papyrus cut in matter-of-factly, hunching over and curling his arms around himself. “....I know you do...you....want to HURT something...” He peered over at Sans. “....it's safe this way....you can....let it all out, Sans.....let it all out on ME....” His gaze went unfocused, his hands reaching up to press to his skull, a fingertip digging into the crack in his maxilla. “...I can take it, Sans...I WANT it...”

Sans's hands shook, taking another look at Papyrus's bones. “...Papyrus...” he murmured, shakily reaching out and touching a large bruise on Papyrus's right femur. “...did...you do all this to yourself? Are...all of those scars YOURS?” He felt his soul jump when Papyrus nodded. “...oh my gods, Paps...!”

“It makes me...feel good, Sans...” Papyrus said, his voice shaking softly. “I WANT you to, Sans...I can take it.”

Sans clenched his hands tightly, shaking his head. “I couldn't...” he choked out. “Paps, what if I....”

“I'll say the safeword if I don't like it,” Papyrus said, his voice firm. “I'll say it if I think you're getting too close to seriously hurting me.” He reached over, covering Sans's hands with his own. “I swear on my soul, Sans...I'll stop it if I don't like it.” He leaned his skull against Sans's. “...but I don't want you holding back on ME either. I can take it, Sans. Anything you want, I can take it.”

Sans let out a shaky breath, pulling his hands from under Papyrus's and lifting them to his brother's face. “...do you SWEAR you'll tell me if it's too much?” he demanded. Papyrus nodded.

“On my soul,” he swore.

Sans's left eyelight blazed blue.

“Good.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Glorious._

It was the only adjective suitable for what Sans experienced with Papyrus— _glorious_.

Despite his initial hesitation on the matter, once Sans began, it was like half of his mind shut down while the other half—the part that only came out under duress and inebriation—took hold like a rabid beast and refused to let go until it was satisfied.

He thought he'd be more disinclined after hearing the first smack of bone against bone, but what he heard was akin to the most beautiful music, with Papyrus's cries being thrown into the timbre that egged him on further, deeper into indulgence.

And indulge he did.

The past two weeks' worth of repressed anger and frustration was taken out on the willing skeletal frame, and with a vengeance he didn't even know he possessed. He hit, he scratched, he bit, he squeezed, pulled, and verbally abused to his soul's content, the dam gates open and the flood having not stopped anytime soon.

And Papyrus took it. He welcomed it all, vocally and verbally urging Sans on, pulling tight on the leather straps that secured his wrists to the bed until his bones creaked, fighting past the restraints to be closer to Sans, to lean into the blows and bites. Even when the tears poured out of his eye sockets and Sans's degrading words struck him like physical blows, he still begged Sans for more until he was unable to verbalize anything anymore.

Sans's lucidity returned sometime in the early hours, finding himself curled around Papyrus's larger frame, the younger Skeleton's bones littered in scratches, bite dents, cracks, and bruises. Injuries that HE inflicted. Injuries that would take a good amount of medicine and healing magic to fix.

But seeing the absolutely contented expression on Papyrus's sleeping face, like a child without a care or responsibility in the world, he couldn't help but feel....PROUD. Pride at himself for bringing Papyrus to this blissful state. Pride at Papyrus for being so strong and heady, taking it all like the champion he was. Proud at them both for allowing this to happen and letting themselves to enjoy it.

Sans sat up and stretched, feeling as though all the weight in the world had been lifted off of his shoulders and making him feel light as air. He smiled at Papyrus and quietly slipped out of bed, going into the bathroom to fetch the medicine for Papyrus's wounds and wash up for the day.

After drying his skull free from crusted-on tears—he had admittedly become a bit overwhelmed himself in his indulgence—he took a few moments to stare at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something looked...different. His skull shape was still the same...the crack over his left eye remained unchanged...his eyelights were tired but healthily glowing...so he wondered exactly what it was.

Unable to pinpoint it and writing it off as needing his coffee, Sans grabbed the medicine and tossed the towel on the rack, heading back into his bedroom and seeing that Papyrus had turned on his side and was reaching out to Sans's side of the bed whilst still asleep.

It almost made Sans want to go find the camera, it was so endearing. He sat back down on the bed and gently applied the medicine to Papyrus's chips and cracks, putting a second layer on the ribs and pelvis, where most of the damage had been dealt. It amused him to no end that Papyrus slept through it all, and wondered when the last time he saw Papyrus sleeping so deeply with his guard down.

Too damn long, that much was for sure. Papyrus deserved this rest.

Sans glanced at Papyrus's cell phone on the bedside table, reaching over and setting it to silent before putting it back where it was. Papyrus was going to be getting his sleep, no matter what.

* * *

 

As much as Sans would have loved to spend the whole day in bed with Papyrus, he still had a couple of things his own work required that the other scientists dropping pointless drivel off on him took away from. He sipped his second cup of coffee as he jotted down a few equations, enjoying the domestic ambiance of the morning. It almost made him giggle, thinking of this is a tidy domestic scene; a Monster having quiet coffee and light, stress-free work while his partner slept in after a night of fantastic sex.

Ah, perhaps Heaven truly did exist.

His pen paused on the paper when he heard a thump from upstairs followed by a muffled explicative, absently wondering if Papyrus fell off the bed, as he was prone to do sometimes. He drained the rest of his coffee before putting his pen down and pushing out of his chair, heading back upstairs. His pace quickened when he heard frantic scurrying around and louder self-banter, walking to his room and seeing Papyrus tugging on his underclothes and looking for all the pieces of his armor.

“...Papyrus? What are you doing?” he asked, frowning. Papyrus tugged on a piece, running his hands over his skull almost frantically.

“I slept in, Sans!” he cried, hurrying past Sans and gathering more pieces of his armor. “My phone was put on silent and I've missed three calls from Alphys! They need me back at the Capitol post haste!” He was almost comically hopping around trying to get his armor back into place, but Sans found no humor in it whatsoever.

The elder Skeleton's hand clenched tightly in the door frame, his eyelights dimming. “...Today is your day off,” he said quietly, his voice low.

Papyrus sighed. “Yes, Sans, I know, but—“

“They worked you like a fuckin' DOG BEASTS for TWO GODDAMN WEEKS. And they can't give you ONE DAY OFF.” Sans's teeth ground together, his shoulders shaking with rage that he was fighting to repress. “It's like they can't fuckin' take a piss without you there to hold their hand!”

“Sans—“

“You're not goin'.”

Silence fell in the hall, neither brother moving or speaking for several long moments. Finally, Papyrus sighed, the sound weak and almost broken. “...Sans...I know...” he said, his voice soft with a heavy waver under it. “...but...this...is my JOB, Sans...as much as I hate it...I have to do it. No one else will. I HAVE to.”

Sans's shoulders stiffened as he turned around, giving Papyrus a look as cold as ice. “...you HAVE to?” he repeated, his hands clenching by his sides. “You HAVE TO!? The only things you HAVE to do, Papyrus, are be a Skeleton, pay taxes, and die!” He stalked over, grabbing the collar of Papyrus's armor and jerked it downward, bringing Papyrus lower to his level. “If the entirety of the Royal Guard could be performed by ONE Monster, there wouldn't be any NEED for a Guard!”

Papyrus opened his mouth to retort, but Sans jerked him down lower, his left eyelight blazing blue. “If those incompetent fuckwads can't even handle one goddamn day without you bein' there to hold their dicks for 'em, then FUCK THE ROYAL GUARD!” His hand shook, bones rattling again the metal armor. “I am NOT going to lose my brother to insanity because they're whiny little fuckers who need to be BABYSAT!”

He let go of Papyrus's armor, clenching his hands by his sides tightly. “I'm not losin' you to this shit, Papyrus,” he said darkly, one hand snapping out and grabbing Papyrus's cell phone. “They worked you to the marrow for two weeks straight. Even Alphys isn't that much of a fanatic, an' she's after your goddamn job. So you're takin' the day off. You hear me?” His hand clenched around the cell phone until the screen threatened to crack. “You're stayin' home.”

Papyrus stood half-suited in the hallway, his hands wringing together almost childishly, visibly torn between his two options. After a few long moments, he reached up and shakily detached his chest armor, letting it drop on the floor.

Sans's shoulders visibly relaxed, reaching up with his free hand and touching the front of Papyrus's chest. “....put your armor away, take a shower, and get dressed,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I'll have breakfast ready when you come down.”

Papyrus nodded, mumbling a barely-audible 'yes sir' and quickly gathering up his armor pieces to put them all together neatly.

Sans walked back downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling some food out of the fridge to start cooking. He was cracking eggs in the pan when he heard the shower running, and let out a heavy sigh of relief and satisfaction.

While waiting for the eggs to poach, he took Papyrus's cell phone out of his pocket, seeing that Alphys had called twice more, and barely felt a smirk crawl over his smile as he texted a simple **'TAKING THE DAY OFF'** before shoving it back into his pocket and poking at the eggs in the pan.

This was what was best for Papyrus, he thought, humming as he relocated the eggs to the waiting plates. He knew what was best for his little brother. If he had to micro-manage everything until Papyrus was properly handled, then so be it.

Papyrus would thank him later.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured all you reviewers deserved a little bit extra, so here's an extra-long chapter for you!

Sans had to practically order Papyrus to relax and enjoy the day off, but it seemed to him that Papyrus didn't MIND that aspect, per se. Even outside of bed, Papyrus seemed all to eager to be given an order and made to obey it, and Sans was more than happy doing the ordering.

Still, Papyrus had to be ordered to do ANYTHING that required a decent day off, be it sitting on the couch to watch that Mettaton and Napstaton garbage he somehow liked so much, or Sans having to remind Papyrus that a nap required actual sleeping and not staring up at the ceiling in worry.

If Sans didn't know any better, he would think that Papyrus was being this difficult on PURPOSE...but he honestly thought Papyrus was incapable of relaxing unless he was completely spent. It was sad and pathetic and...

...and it made Sans MAD.

Before his promotion, Papyrus had been an easygoing guy—lazy, even. But then the spot for Captain opened up, and it seemed like overnight Papyrus became a workaholic insomniac incapable of unclenching his proverbial ass long enough to enjoy a single goddamn day off doing absolutely NOTHING.

And not the 'sit-in-the-window-contemplating-suicide-and-the-meaninglessness-of-life' nothing he was apparently prone to, but just......NOTHING. Enjoyable nothingness.

Not for the first time, Sans debated shadowing Papyrus at work on one of his own days off to see what the hell they were doing to him. It could NOT be normal to run ANY member of the Royal Guard as hard as they do Papyrus.

Sans glanced over at Papyrus, who was taking his nap on the couch, and actually SLEEPING once Sans made him comfortable enough. Gods, Papyrus looked so blessedly beautiful when he slept...like all of the battle damage and emotional duress melted away from his bones and just left the little brother Sans once knew and failed to appreciate before he was taken away and beaten down under the responsibility Sans always harped on him to get.

Papyrus told him that he wanted to be the little brother again, and Sans found himself wishing the exact same thing. He wouldn't have tolerated doing everything around the house simply out of GUILT of their biggest fight those years ago...no, he LIKED doing those things. He LIKED taking care of Papyrus. He LIKED being depended on, and not in that disgusting mockery of a way the other scientists piled up on him. This was his different.

Papyrus was his little brother, and genuinely appreciated everything Sans did for him. And even though there was no need to PROVE his appreciation, Papyrus still let Sans do whatever he wanted, and the appreciation showed on his bones, plain as day. If it wouldn't cause something of a ruckus, he knew Papyrus would KEEP those marks, and display them proudly.

Sans deftly touched his skull crack, getting a hint of an idea before immediately smothering it down. No. As...tempting as the thought was, he wouldn't deal his brother a blow to the skull hard enough to leave a permanent scar. He'd find some OTHER way.

He was absently debating between the merits of bone carving and branding when Papyrus woke up from his hour-long nap. The younger Skeleton rubbed his eye sockets and sat up, looking around blearily. Sans smiled, putting down the book he wasn't even reading anyway. “Have a good nap, Papyrus?” he asked.

Papyrus stretched out his arms, giving Sans a small nod; after the fuss he'd internally put up, the nap was incredibly great, and much needed too. “Yeah, it was,” he replied. “...I...can make lunch, if you want.”

“I could eat, yes,” Sans replied, standing up out of his chair and walking over to Papyrus. “But first....do me a favor, Paps....put your hands on the back of the couch behind you.”

Papyrus gave pause at the odd request, but raised his arms and put his hands behind his head on the couch behind him. Sans smiled, tugging the blanket off of Papyrus's lap, dipping his fingertips under the hem of Papyrus's pants, tugging the down. “Hips up.” The younger Skeleton's cheekbones turned orange as he arched his hips, watching Sans slide them down and drop them carelessly on the floor.

Sans trailed his phalanges up Papyrus's femurs, delighting in the trembling the action caused, seeing Papyrus's blush glow deepen. He adored that look on Papyrus; it was an imitation of innocence, but was certainly not a pale imitation. It reminded him of when they first began their relationship, of seeing Papyrus come undone just with a few touches...

He brushed his phalanges over the bones in Papyrus's pelvis, flicking his eyelights up to see Papyrus clench his jaw tight and clench his hands tighter into the back of the couch. It was amazing, seeing what just a few touches could do.

...and speaking of which...

Papyrus's magic began to coalesce, and that was where the magic—so to speak—took place. Sans enjoyed this part, watching Papyrus's magic form. The past couple of years of their physical relationship, Papyrus had been the dominant force, but now.....now, it was fascinating seeing Papyrus's magic battle itself on instinct versus familiarity. Seeing that golden orange magic swirl and partially solidify for several moments before settling on a sensitive mound that positively dripped with arousal.

How was it Papyrus managed to stay so perfectly untainted in magic after everything he'd been through, Sans wondered to himself as he lightly brushed his phalanges over the magic construct, hearing Papyrus let out a repressed whimper. Even considering Papyrus to be a masochist, light, gentle touches drove him further over the edge than strikes or cuts did, and Sans decided that was the greatest torture of all, letting Papyrus squirm and whimper until he finally got up the nerve to start begging for more.

The anticipation of that in the near future sent a shudder up Sans's spine as he lifted Papyrus's femurs to get better access, and dragged the tip of his conjured tongue shallowly between the folds of congealed magic.

The reaction was instantaneous, Papyrus's frame jerking hard as he buried his face against his humerus, cheekbones blazing orange as he struggled to keep his cries to himself. Oh, well Sans couldn't have THAT now. Sans moved his tongue in a slow, fluid wave, not letting more than the tip of it past the folds as he kept his eyelights on Papyrus's face, seeing sweat bead at his younger brother's skull and feeling the bones rattle from the effort it took to keep still and quiet.

He really had to give Papyrus a hand on his spectacular self-control, but Sans was not gauging Papyrus's control, not today. Today, he wanted Papyrus to scream, cry, and BEG.

Sans leaned back and licked his teeth, grinning at the pathetic mewl Papyrus let out at the loss of contact.  "You just stay right here, Papyrus, just like this," he commanded, setting Papyrus's feet on the edge of the couch cushions to keep his legs propped up before standing and hurrying upstairs to his bedroom.  He felt more than a little proud and glad that he had taken some notes from the book, especially in the area of tools he could utilize for this.

He pulled open a drawer and took out a few things he had crafted himself in the few spare moments he had the past two weeks, inwardly amused at the thought of his proficiency in mechanics and electronics being used to create something for THIS.  He absently thought about churning out a few more and anonymously selling them out; the sex toy industry was practically nonexistent in the Underground, and he was sure he'd make a killing.  Simple as they were, he was sure he and Papyrus could have TONS of fun with a pair of makeshift leather handcuffs, some cloth straps, a crop, and a remote-controlled vibrating pellet for HOURS.  He just had to be creative.

Sans headed back downstairs, pleased as could be when he saw Papyrus in the same position he left him in, albeit more flushed and unsatisfied.  Papyrus caught sight of him, giving Sans a silent look of desperation with a lustful heated undertone that Sans just couldn't stand to ignore.  Sans sauntered up to Papyrus, smiling down at him.  "Such a good boy, being so obedient," he purred, holding the pellet by the cord and swinging it to and fro in front of Papyrus's face.  "Do you know what this is?"  Papyrus shook his head.  "It's something that'll make you feel REALLY good."  He leaned between Papyrus's spread femurs, purposely getting close as he carefully wound the bullet between the ribs on Papyrus's sternum, using the cord to loosely tie it in place so it wouldn't snag or tangle, but still press against the sternum.  "And just for extra security..."  He reached up and used the cuffs to securely bind Papyrus's wrists together, making a mental note to put a discrete latch on the back of the couch he could pull out when doing this in the future.  After making sure Papyrus's hands stayed behind his head, Sans used the straps to tie Papyrus's femurs to his tibiae and fibulae.

He stepped back to admire his work, seeing Papyrus spread out so prettily with bones that almost glowed with an excited, embarrassed flush.  The congealed mound in Papyrus's pelvis was more solid and vivid in color, practically beckoning Sans for another taste...

But not now.  NOW, he got to try out his new fun toys.  

 "I'm going to start now," he said, his thumb brushing along the button on the pellet's remote.  "Do you need a gag, or can you control yourself?"

Papyrus licked his teeth, sweat forming on his skull again.  "...I can control myself," he said quietly before clenching his jaw in preparation.  As adorable as the determination in his little brother was, Sans still put the idea of a leather gag on the backburner as he pressed the button on the remote.

Papyrus let out a sharp, strangled keen through his teeth at the sudden vibration on his sternum, and was instantly smacked with a sharp whack with the crop from Sans on the inside of his femur, the bullet being turned off.  "I believe I asked for silence," Sans said calmly, though his voice shook slightly with excitement of seeing just how well his little toy was working on Papyrus.  "All I want to hear from you is your breathing.  Understand?"  Papyrus nodded, and Sans smiled, turning the bullet back on.

This time, only a sharp intake of breath was all the noise Papyrus made, his jaw clenched tight and bones rattling from his shaking. Sans grinned, enjoying the sight of Papyrus twitching and squirming, the taller Skeleton trying his damnedest to not make any unauthorized noise as commanded. But Sans WANTED Papyrus to make noise, WANTED to wrench every cry, gasp, and moan right out of his mouth....

He lowered his crop to hover over Papyrus's pelvis, ghosting it over the twitching mass of magic and watching Papyrus's eyelights constrict from the effort it took to not make a noise. He smiled, dipping the tip of the crop between the folds, mimicking the action he performed with his tongue earlier and watched Papyrus's head drop back hard, a hard, shaky exhale of air rattling the tall Skeleton's bones.

Sans knew that sound; it was Papyrus's breathing pattern when he was experiencing intense pain or discomfort, like he was manually converting pain into pleasure. It was almost hilarious to think that Papyrus put THIS on the same level of torture as having his bones chipped and cut, and Sans could only think if whether or not the screams would be the same.

Sans pulled the crop back slightly, only to snap it sharply over the mound, hearing Papyrus's breath hitch and then pause as he used every ounce of self-control to not make any other sound. Tears were gathering in his eye sockets and his arms shook from the effort it took to keep his hands behind his head, his spine arched up off of the couch. Sans stifled a giggle at the reaction, reaching down with his free hand to hold the tip of the crop between his fingertips and slowly bend it backwards, his grin broadening when Papyrus looked down and had less that a second to realize what Sans was going to before he let the tip of the crop go.

The crop tip snapped against the folds with a sharp crack that had Papyrus's hips bucking clean off of the couch. Sans could hear Papyrus's teeth grinding and breath come out in short, sharp pants, but still Papyrus didn't cry out.

Sans made a mental note to reward Papyrus for such self-control at a later time, but for now he had a personal mission to make Papyrus scream. In a fluid flick of his wrist, he flipped the crop around so he was holding the thin end, and prodded the thicker handle side against Papyrus's dripping mound. He absently wondered if the pellet's vibrations combined with the smacks had already made Papyrus orgasm as he pushed the handle of the crop slowly into Papyrus—

—and promptly froze when he heard a loud pounding at the front door.

Papyrus and Sans's eyelights met; both of them recognized that knock as Alphys's.

“Son of a BITCH,” Sans hissed, pinching his nasal bone in frustration. He made a move to remove the crop when he paused, a thought occurring to him.

_Papyrus hadn't said the safeword._

He looked up at Papyrus's face, seeing a dark flush on his cheekbones and rib cage heaving with excited breath.

Oh wow. 

This was INTERESTING.

Sans's grin could only be described as pure evil as he raised a finger and pressed it to his teeth in the universal 'shh' gesture. “Don't want her finding you like this, do we?” he asked before patting Papyrus's femur and standing up, leaving the handle of the crop inside of Papyrus and the pellet still running as he walked over to the door and schooled his features down a notch two seconds before opening the door.

“Alphys. Always a pleasure seeing you,” he said, the disdain not even remotely veiled in his voice.

Alphys gave him a sneer. “Where is the Captain?” she demanded. Sans's disdainful look only deepened, clearly shadowing his features.

“Papyrus is taking the day off,” he replied. “Could've SWORN you got the memo, Al.”

“The Captain doesn't TAKE days off!” Alphys retorted.

“He does NOW,” Sans shot back, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, able to hear the faintest sound of bones rattling back on the couch. “I think he's EARNED it after two weeks, and he's indisposed at the moment. Can I take a message?”

Alphys's remaining eye twitched, her hands flexing as though debating the pros and cons of punching her Captain's 1 HP brother in the skull. “He is NEEDED back at HQ—“

“And you're all big kid Monsters who know how to tie your own shoes and everything!” Sans cut in, not bothering to keep the thick mockery out of his voice. He took a thrill of pleasure at her enraged expression, then leaned forward, lowering his voice so only she would hear. “And in any case,” he continued, “if you can't go even ONE DAY without Papyrus, how the hell can you even imagine yourself with his job?” 

Alphys's eye widened as he leaned back, straightening up and taking hold of the door. “You're a big, capable girl, Alphys,” he said, “and I'm SURE you can take care of any issues for today by yourself.” His eye sockets went pitch black. “Now stop blowing up my brother's cellphone with your pedantic bullshit and let him take a goddamn day for himself. Good day.”

That said, he stepped back and shut the door, taking a few moments to listen in and only turning away when he heard the snow crunch as Alphys left his doorstep. “Well, that went well!” he chirped as he turned back over to Papyrus, and paused.

He stared for a long moment, and then his eyelights returned with a glimmering vengeance when he saw that during the doorstep conversation, Papyrus had somehow remained quiet through both a physical and soul orgasm, the bound Skeleton's bones covered in golden orange magical residue, his teeth still grinding hard as he was shaking his way through yet another one.

Sans walked over almost mechanically, tugging the crop out of Papyrus and turning the bullet off before leaning to hover over his brother, their rib cages barely an inch apart. “Did that get you off, Papyrus?” he asked, his left eye glimmering blue. “Did hearing your big brother tell that bully Alphys off make you so excited that you came without my permission?”

Papyrus let out another heavy, shaky sigh, his body going limp as he gave Sans a slow, shaky nod. “You may speak,” Sans said, running his hand over Papyrus's face, feeling Papyrus's jaw flex to relax it from all the clenching before the younger Skeleton spoke.

“....I did....” Papyrus murmured. “Wanted....to say that for SO long...”

Sans beamed, leaning up and pressing his teeth to Papyrus's for a moment before leaning back. “Well now you've got ME to say it for you,” he purred. “And look—we've still got all evening and night uninterrupted to finish having our FUN.” He picked up the crop again and turned it sideways, pushing the soaked handle between Papyrus's teeth. “We're going back to no sounds now,” he said authoritatively. “Got it?” Papyrus nodded, and Sans picked up the remote again.

“Good boy.” 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Having one full day with Papyrus was simply not enough, in Sans's opinion. All too soon, the day ended and they were relocated back upstairs in the bedroom after a shared shower, where Papyrus zonked out deeper than he had for his nap.

Sans, on the other hand, stayed up longer, lying on his side and watching his brother sleep and once again marveling over how beautiful and innocent the younger Skeleton was, and yet how damaged he was inside underneath it all. When Papyrus woke up in the morning, he was going to leave the comforting shelter of their home and return to a job he hated with people who overworked him and drove him further into that crippling depression Sans was trying so hard to keep him out of.

It wasn't FAIR. It was just so goddamn unfair. Looking back further on it Sans could see that every time Papyrus came home, he looked more and more broken, became more and more reclusive, more tired, taking longer smoke breaks, with only them being together in bed as the only thing he put any real effort into.

Sans missed his little brother. He missed Papyrus's genuine smile, his enthusiasm, his adoration for life rather than the dread of it. And it all started the day Sans encouraged him to go for Guard training. If Sans had known THIS is what Papyrus's mental state would amount to, he would have convinced Papyrus that being a sentry was perfectly fine.

Then again, Papyrus wouldn't have listened. He was already under enough pressure to do MORE, considering Sans was a Royal Scientist and their father was a hero of the Great War and a former Captain himself, and Papyrus felt he needed to amount to SOMETHING.

….and looking back on it, not once did Sans tell him he mattered enough. Yes, he was a good brother, yes he was a fine sentry, and yes, he was a great lover....but not that it was all Papyrus had to be if he was happy being it. Papyrus USED to be happy, until he began hearing unnecessary comments from the peanut gallery about how much POTENTIAL he was wasting, how LAZY he was, how much MORE he could be....

And Sans was ashamed that he contributed more than his fair share of that criticism. It was entirely understandable from Papyrus's point of view, of that last huge fight they had a few years ago...of being told all through adolescence to do more, be more, attain more...and then after shedding blood, sweat, and tears to get into the Royal Guard for Sans to tell him to QUIT....

Sans felt he truly DESERVED this skull crack. Not just for that, but for all the damage that came after.

But now...it may be possible to get Papyrus out of that horrible environment and back home, where Sans could watch over him, and take care of him, and maybe even find him a new, better job. Sure, Captain of the Royal Guard was prestigious, but it wasn't HEALTHY. And to be honest, he was positive Papyrus wouldn't last much longer, with the way the rest of the Guard was—

….......son of a BITCH.

Sans nearly scared an intern right out of her wits when his magic reacted violently to the realization that the Guard was PURPOSELY using Papyrus like that, several beakers shattered around him and sending the intern scurrying.

_Alphys was fucking doing it on PURPOSE._ Why the fuck ELSE would she corral the others into driving Papyrus into insanity like this!? It was no secret that Alphys was out for the position of Captain, so it only made sense that she would take the dirty route and use Papyrus's dedication and inclination for overworking something to her advantage.

After all Papyrus had done for them, they would take THIS route with him...they would do this to him without any regard as to his health and well-being, not even out of RESPECT...to them, he was just some mid-twenties upstart who swooped in, impressed the King, and got the job out of some bullshit nepotism because of his father instead of through broken bones, shed marrow, and a neglect to his own health.

It took every ounce of self-control to not stalk to the Capitol and drag Papyrus out of work and right back home to Snowdin, and he instead kept his temper simmering back by tidying up the mess he made, wringing his hands into a cloth until he could knock someone out with how tightly he made the cloth twist.

His brother wasn't driving HIMSELF into this self-destructive depression...fuck-mothering Alphys and her hoard of boot-licking cohorts were.

“Hey, Sans!” Undyne's voice called in from the doorway, dragging him out of his dark, mutinous thoughts. “I made a TEENSY little mess in the biology department, and I need you to—“

“Do it yourself.”

A beat of silence run through the room, Undyne struggling right the verbal train that Sans had derailed. “...uhhmm....what?” she managed to say. “I told you to—“

“And I told YOU—“ Sans snapped, whipping around and brandishing the twisted cloth in her direction, “—DO IT YOURSELF!” He threw the cloth to the floor. “Do it yourself, get one of your assistants to do it, or get one of the interns to do it! I have my OWN work to focus on, on top of EVERYTHING ELSE going on in my life, and I don't need your pissant bullshit to deal with either!”

He grabbed a stack of files that had been tossed onto his desk and shoved them into her arms. “And while you're at it, give these to those goddamn dogs in biology and make them USEFUL for once!” He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I'm going to my office to get MY work done in completion for ONCE. You know. JUST TO KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!” He walked past her, pausing and turning his head to side-eye her, his left eye socket flickering blue.

“And don't think for a moment that I'll be tolerating this shit anymore. I'm not risking my job because I cant turn in decent research. Leave me the FUCK alone.”

He stalked off for his office, anyone in his path practically diving out of the way, knowing just from seeing Papyrus that it was never a good idea to be in the way of a Skeleton with a glowing eye.

* * *

 

 

It took only three days this time for Papyrus to come home, but it was still three days too long. All of the wonderful calmness that the day off had instilled in him had been once again shattered, to the point where the first thing he said when Sans hurried over with a kiss was,

“...not tonight, Sans.”

Seeing the empty black eye sockets reflecting back no light, no joy of being home, only pain, broke Sans's soul. Papyrus was slumped over, like his own armor would crush his bones to dust at any moment, looking like he wouldn't even make it to the couch before collapsing.

Sans quietly began dismantling the armor set himself, letting the pieces drop on the floor like the garbage Sans thought them to be until Papyrus was unburdened, then led his brother over to the couch and laid him down, shifting so he was sitting on the couch with Papyrus's skull in his lap. He gently stroked the chipped and scraped bones for a few long moments, reining back his temper.

“...what happened?” he asked.

Papyrus was silent for the longest moment before turning his face into Sans's femurs, and not a second later, Sans could feel the wetness of tears against his bones. Papyrus's whole frame shook with sobbing, and all Sans could do was sit there and pet Papyrus's skull and scapulae with the utmost care, seeing more and more self-inflicted chipping and claw marks the longer he looked.

It was almost forty minutes later that Papyrus finally calmed down enough so at least his bones stopped rattling, having cried himself out. Sans gently turned Papyrus's skull so it was facing him, stroking his thumb over a bruised cheekbone.

“...what happened?” Sans asked again. Papyrus inhaled deeply, then let out a long, shaky sigh, the breath he used when converting his pain into pleasure, and Sans hated that it was internal soul-wrenching pain that it was being done for.

“...just.......everything...” Papyrus finally said, his voice weak and listless. “....every time I go back...it gets...harder and harder to stay.....to readjust after...everything we do....” His eye sockets closed, leaning into Sans's hand almost contentedly, like he was hoping the touch would take it all away. “...I don't want to keep feeling this way....why....can't I just feel good...and STAY that way...?”

Sans bit back a scowl, feeling a fresh wave of hatred for the Royal Guard for driving his brother to sobs; and this was just one instance that he knew of. Who knows how many times Papyrus cried himself sick when Sans WASN'T there? He petted over Papyrus's skull, his phalanges scraping lightly over the scraped and chipped bone. “...Papyrus...” he said softly, a small shift under his hand letting him know Papyrus was listening. “...if I asked you to...would you step down from being Captain?”

Papyrus's frame stiffened under his hands, prompting Sans to start stroking and rubbing over the bone kinks to relax him down again. “Look at yourself,” he continued, massaging his thumb into the disks under the cervical vertebrae. “You're in constant pain, overworked, unappreciated...you deserve so much better than this.” He leaned down, pressing his teeth against the side of Papyrus's skull. “I only want what's best for you. I always have” His phalanges pressed into Papyrus's spine slightly. “I always WILL.”

A shiver rolled down Papyrus's spine as he turned his face into Sans's femurs again, sniffling softly. “...I know...” he murmured quietly. “...'m too proud....never think things through...you know what's best...”

Sans smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do. So do as I say, and I guarantee it'll be better.” He turned Papyrus's skull so the younger brother was facing him again. “When you go back to work, you're going to designate what needs to be done to other Guards, and you will tell them they will DO it. If they don't do it right, fire their asses for incompetence. Either they get up to your level, or they're not WORTH being Guards.” He gave Papyrus a smile. “You're the best of the best, Papyrus, but that doesn't mean you should have to carry them while they drag their feet. And you're going to start coming home at the end of the day and get someone to work night shifts. I can't stand you being away from home for so long, not anymore.”

Papyrus gave pause for a few moments before nodding. “...I'll do that...” he replied quietly. “...it...may take some time...King Asgore—“

“—does NOT have your best interests at heart,” Sans cut in sharply; he didn't care if it was practically blasphemy to speak ill of the monarchy, though gods knew he deserved a spot in Hell for cursing Queen Toriel enough times for his shitty ranking in the labs if that were the case. “I do. And in any case...I am sure he will not object to the work being more evenly distributed.”

Like he'd object anyway; why the King decided to oversee the Royal Guard when Queen Toriel was the obvious superior ruler in the Underground was beyond Sans. Papyrus had been right about one musing, and that was he practically ran the Underground as far as law and peacekeeping went. But better that weak-spined pushover oversee the Guard rather than Queen Toriel, who played favorites and had rank settings in the form of a proverbial battle royale, and was SURE to find a favorite in Alphys.

“I am your brother,” Sans continued, running his hand over Papyrus's skull. “I am your older brother, your caretaker, and, if it keeps you happy and in good health, your lord and master. If you want me to take care of you outside this house, then I will do it. I will do everything within my power to keep you happy. All you have to do is ask.”

Papyrus's cheekbones dusted orange, his fingers flexing into Sans's pant leg. “...my...lord and master...” he repeated contemplatively, sitting up. “...you...always make me happy...I'm so happy when I'm with you...when...you take over for me...it's the ONLY way I'm happy....”

Sans reached up and cupped Papyrus's skull, his voice taking on the commanding tone both he and Papyrus had come to know as the dominant persona. “Then say it, Papyrus,” he said. “Say it, and I will make you happy ALL the time. And no one....not Alphys, not Asgore, NO ONE in the entire Underground...will have any more power over you as long as I'm here.”

Silence hung between them for only a few moments before Papyrus ducked his head in a show of submission. “...I want you to take over...my lord...please...”

Sans smiled, pulling Papyrus to him and pressing their teeth together, feeling like he had won somehow, even if he didn't know exactly WHAT.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the monarchy thing, my thoughts on it are this: In some Underfell versions, Toriel and Asgore are still together, being crazy and stuff, while in Underswap, Toriel is the reigning matriarch while Asgore meekly tends to the ruins. 
> 
> In my version, they're still ruling together, with the responsibilities split. The less aggressive Asgore has control over the Royal Guard while the more dominant Toriel proceeds over the Royal Scientists. I like having a lick of irony to the situation.
> 
> Also, the next couple of chapters are going to get darker and tags might change, so there's a heads-up. Thanks for reading thus far!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently got a second job, and so updating is going to be a little more spread out, maybe once a week. Just letting you all know!

Three months into their new arrangement, and Sans couldn't believe just how great it was working out for him and Papyrus.

Truthfully, it was a good bit of extra work on Sans's part; he HAD claimed full responsibility and control over Papyrus, and dear GODS, was it a mess to clean up. Even though Papyrus did as he was told and had the rest of the Guard shouldering more responsibilities to lessen the burden of his own, there was still the cleanup of backlash that proclamation caused.

Between newly-appointed jobs being done poorly and cases of outright insubordination, Papyrus was still a nervous wreck coming home, but at least he was COMING HOME so Sans could help bleed him of his trauma right away instead of letting it simmer and poison Papyrus further into that pool of depression. Sans now had much more information to work with to fix those problems, and to fix them ASAP.

Papyrus seemed to be improving a little, as far as his demeanor went. The crying spells were much fewer and Sans strove to give Papyrus as little time as possible to delve back into depressive habits. Be it giving instruction on how to more evenly disperse the workload in the Guard or keeping up their continuous game through odd play, Papyrus had little free time for dark thoughts to clog up his mind.

Things improved for Sans, too. He was loathe to leave his assertiveness back at home, so he continued to bring it with him to work, and was he ever glad he did. Undyne rarely bothered him with bullshit anymore—though she didn't let up completely, she enjoyed making EVERYONE'S lives more difficult—and the other Royal Scientists steered clear of him entirely.

His theoretical work was improving as well, and he was amassing something proper for Queen Toriel to review and approve of. And since he didn't have a share of everyone else's work to waste his time, he instead used his new mass of free time to helping Papyrus, taking proper lunch times at the garbage dump in finding new inspirational items for their play, and crafting them out to perfection in his office.

It was always fun surprising Papyrus with something new every week. Sometimes it was a new toy or a new routine for them to try; last week, he unveiled a 'uniform' of sorts to Papyrus that took the better part of the past three months to create in his spare time. It was nothing entirely fancy, but something that differed greatly from what Sans normally wore. A black cutoff leather top and shorts he crafted himself paired with spare leather boots and gloves he managed to pilfer from the Guard uniform stores still made for something jarring to see, quite the difference from his usual khakis and button-down shirts.

There was also something more satisfying about stalking around in shoes with a heel too, though Sans kept that to himself lest he be accused of height envy.

Still, he was glad Papyrus liked it, as self-indulgent as it was. Instead of amusement, Papyrus looked him over with near-worship, and seemed more eager than ever for play, all the more willing to service his Lord.

Ah, gods, that honorific that Papyrus had bestowed upon him. Call it his ego, but something just CHANGED when Papyrus called him that, the title falling from his tongue like a prayer to a god with all the respect and devoutness one would give to a deity. Truly, he FELT like a god, as much as Papyrus worshiped him.

It wasn't just in the bedroom, either. It was in the loving way Papyrus would arrange Sans's food on the plate when it was his turn to cook, how hard he strove to keep things tidy so Sans wouldn't have to keep picking up after him, in the open, trusting way he fell asleep with his head on Sans's lap while they watched TV together.

….but it was also in the way Papyrus would kneel on the floor like the lowliest servant to a king, how he'd remain perfectly steadfast and still while being used as living furniture, how he'd clean Sans's boots with his tongue and then ask what else he could do for his Lord.

And Sans never ran out of things for Papyrus to do...on the contrary.

He kept a list.

* * *

 

Sans was home first today; he got to go home early a LOT of days now, much to his enjoyment. He preferred it that way, especially since at lunch he'd found something very interesting for Papyrus, and wanted to be ready when his little brother came home.

Changing into his OTHER clothing was...an experience, to say the least. Even the past few days when he and Papyrus were home at the same time, he never rushed changing. The clothes were kept in his old bedroom, as he had moved into Papyrus's long ago; this bedroom was currently their 'play room'. In the closet was just his clothing, hanging up neatly.

The first thing he did was shut and lock the door, and then he began removing his work clothes. The once-familiar and comfortable khakis and shirts were now almost an irritation on his bones, just something cumbersome he had to shed for his 'real' clothes. Even so, he still never rushed undressing, mostly because of how THRILLING it was, baring his bones entirely. As a Skeleton, he felt much more exposed than the average Monster, and thus, the more layers, the better. But he felt nearly INVINCIBLE and UNTOUCHABLE in his 'play clothes'...

….no, he couldn't even call it THAT. 'Play' seemed to downplay all the planning and crafting that went into the outfit. It was comfortable, yet sturdy, but still flexible enough for more rigorous movements. He was even sure he could fight in the outfit without an ounce of hindrance.

After kicking the pile of work clothes to the side, he would normally take a few moments to enjoy the thrill of being bare-boned, and would sometimes even glance at himself in the mirror he had set up at first to take in the full outfit, but never got around to removing it from the room. He used to feel so self-conscious about his frame, about how small it was with thicker bones that almost looked awkward and ungainly, like he was forever stuck in the disproportionate hell of puberty.

But Papyrus had worshiped every single one of his bones, all 206 of them, and declared each and every one of them perfect, down to the nicks and scratches, and even the lovingly-kissed crack over his left eye socket. His body may be small, but it was a body that was worshiped by the one person who actually mattered.

He was always amused at Papyrus's bone worship, he thought as he took his outfit out of the closet piece by piece. It was especially funny, considering that by Skeleton standards, Papyrus was a literal Adonis with his height, build, and strength, and all that was taken into consideration WITHOUT his impressive magical power. So for PAPYRUS to say Sans had the more desirable body...

...he could definitely take that compliment, no problem.

Sans tugged on his outfit with the utmost care, feeling the sturdy but smooth fabric over his bones as he adjusted them properly, sliding on his boots which came up almost to his knees and stepping down lightly to test out the comfort.  The boots had an inch and a half of heel, but he still felt so much taller in them, the supple leather insides molding perfectly into his metatarsals and calcanei.  The gloves were just as sturdy and comfortable, having already been broken in perfectly, making a satisfying creak as he flexed his hands tightly.  

He turned to the mirror and saw his grin widen at his reflection.  Far from the meek little Skeleton who worked in the labs, Sans could now see glimpses of what Papyrus saw--a domineering force to be reckoned with, and yes...with a fine bone structure.  The way his iliac crests crept above the hem of his shorts, the curve of his exposed spine, the tantalizing glimpse of the bottom of his rib cage peeking from under his shirt...it was enough to make him forget his own issues about the overall frame and take a few moments to admire himself.

After fueling his own ego, he picked up his favorite tools—leather crop, length of leather straps, and his cuffs—and hooked them to his waistband before walking over to his work bag and taking out a small box that held today's treasure, heading to his and Papyrus's bedroom.

* * *

 

Papyrus came home fifteen minutes later, his whole demeanor changing the moment he shut his front door. A whole day of perfect posture, composed behavior, and a blank expression melted like snow on a fire. He tugged off his armor, dropping it to the floor and made his way upstairs.

Though the weight of his armor was gone, he found it hard to climb the stairs, instead wanting to collapse on the couch for a three-day nap to compensate for his day full of weariness.

Still, he admitted to himself as he held onto the banister tightly as he made his ascension, Sans's help made these days SO much more bearable. It was the reason why he WASN'T just collapsing on the couch for a nap, or holing up in the 'play room' for quiet brooding time...he didn't feel the NEED to brood, not alone at least. Ever since they began this second life within their home, it was like handing over the mechanics to his mind over to Sans, and the internal machine that was constantly slowing to a near-death crawl was now running like it was tuned up daily.

It wasn't just what they DID. They were open now, about EVERYTHING, and Papyrus began speaking up about things he didn't even like mulling over to himself. Not only did Sans have the mental machine itself, he had the schematics for it too, and always knew just what to do to make things better.

He hadn't expected to...LIKE what they did, at least not as much as he found he liked it. Yes, he liked being ordered and taken care of—and YES, even bitten, scratched, burned, and jointed—but the DEGREE of which he liked it...he was sure even by his and Sans's incestuous taboo levels, it wasn't normal. He would have dreams, of Sans covered in blood and dust, dismantling him bone by bone, taking blunt objects to his skull, tearing into his soul with sharp teeth, all while calling him beautiful _**WRETCHED**_ perfect _**DISGUSTING**_ PRECIOUS _**GARBAGE**_...

….those dreams were amazing and made his soul flutter as though a normal Monster would be given flowers from a beloved. But those were things he would never ask of Sans. As much as Sans loved inflicting pain, more than a stripe of marrow dripping over Papyrus's bones on any given cut would have him pausing or even safewording to collect himself. Sans enjoyed inflicting pain, but recreational SLAUGHTER was a different story entirely.

But still, he kept those deepest dream fantasies to himself and allowed himself to immerse into the life they created together, where Sans was no longer his brother, but his Lord. His Lord had complete control over his body, his soul, and Papyrus would do ANYTHING, obey ANY order, to please him. His Lord was sparse in his compliments and praise, and Papyrus did all he could to earn them, all to the point where he could lie entwined with him, hardly able to know if it was his Lord or Sans he was sharing a precious soul aura afterglow with.

Papyrus saw a faint glow from behind the cracked bedroom door, and quietly made his way over, pressing his hand to the door to creak it open and feeling his soul pulse when he saw Sans—no, his Lord—sitting on the bed, tapping his crop against the duvet and looking almost displeased.

“Your certainly took your time getting here,” Sans said, his eyelights glimmering sharply. “You kept me waiting two whole minutes since you came home.” He clasped his free hand around the end of the crop, bending it in an arc.

Papyrus ducked his head contritely. “I apologize m'Lord—“ He was interrupted by Sans snapping the crop against the bedside table.

“On your knees when you address me!” Sans barked. “You are begging for my forgiveness! ACT like it!”

On command, Papyrus dropped to his knees, leaning forward to brace himself up on his hands. “...I apologize, m'Lord,” he began again. “It was simply tiredness. I will make haste next time.” He felt a shudder run down his spine when the tip of the crop touched his cheekbone.

“How presumptuous of you to think I'll be allowing room for a transgression like this again,” Sans said. “You made me WAIT...and here I had a gift for you. Now I'm wondering if you're truly DESERVING of it.” He trailed the crop down Papyrus's face and under his chin, applying pressure to signal Papyrus to look up. “Do you deserve my gift?”

“No, m'Lord, I am undeserving of your gifts—“ He let out a hiss of breath when the crop cracked over his face.

“YOU do not decide whether you are deserving or not!” Sans put the crop down across his lap. “Come closer.” He waited until Papyrus's shoulders were flush with his knees before reaching over and picking up the box. “This is a gift, Papyrus,” he said, drumming his fingers over the box lightly. “And I need you to know that this gift is something special, and that it isn't something to take lightly.” He reached out, brushing his phalanges over the cheekbone he had hit moments ago.

“...if you accept this gift, I never want you to be without it. Do you understand?”

Papyrus nodded without hesitation. “Yes, m'Lord,” he said. “I will accept your gift if you will give it.” He let out a soft purr when Sans brushed over his face again, looking on curiously as Sans opened up the small box and took something out.

A thick strip of black leather with a silver buckle on one end and a silver ring in the middle—it took him several moments to realize that he was looking at a collar.

A collar.

Ownership.

Sans—his Lord—was claiming ownership over him.

As he stared at the collar for several long moments, Sans had a brief flash of doubt; this was a presumptuous move on his part, to put a collar on Papyrus like a dog beast. He didn't want Papyrus to really think he REALLY thought of him that way

— _ **his perfect, willing slave, obeying his every command like the beast he was—**_

Sans lowered the collar, the safeword right behind his teeth to be spoken when Papyrus lowered his head into Sans's lap, nuzzling the smaller Skeleton's femurs lovingly. “...it's beautiful, m'Lord,” he said softly. “I'm honored to wear it...to be yours...”

Flash of doubt dead and gone.

Sans grinned, slipping the collar around Papyrus's cervical vertebrae, pulling the end through the buckle to let it sit loosely before hooking his finger in the loop on the front, tugging upward so Papyrus was looking at him. “You realize this means you NEVER take it off,” he said, the firm sharp tone of a command in his voice. “You will wear this under that armor, as a symbol to who you REALLY belong to. Not the King, not the Queen, not the Guard, but to ME.”

He leaned down, pressing his teeth against Papyrus's, forming a tongue and slipping it past his younger brother's teeth. Papyrus let out a loud whimper, parting his jaws wider and curling his own tongue around Sans's. Sans leaned back, grinning down at his brother before reaching back into the box and taking out a matching leash for the collar, clipping the end to the ring and tugging lightly.

“We are going to have SO much fun, Papyrus,” he said, his left eyelight flaring blue. “Especially with what I have planned NEXT for us.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

It had taken nearly two more weeks before the opportunity came up, but it gave Sans and Papyrus plenty of time to prepare and be sure of it. During those weeks, Papyrus felt a secret, continuous thrill as he wore the collar under his armor, and the buildup to Sans's plan was only enhancing the experience, while simultaneously giving him a strange sense of comfort.

With every problem that came his way, every person who gave him a difficult time, he would shift ever-so-slightly and feel the brush of his collar under his armor, and know that his Lord was what really mattered. His Lord would listen, and help him fix his problems. His Lord would make things better.

Those two weeks proved him right. Every problem he had was either fixed or unburdened, and his trust and faith in his Lord only strengthened.

And when his day off came and instead of spending it in the house alone, he instead left the house, following Sans on the way to the elder brother's workplace in the Hotlands. That fact alone wasn't QUITE so absurd...but pair it with them taking the scenic river route, add Papyrus wearing his casual jeans, shoes, and tank top under a light jacket, and top it off with his collar on full display, it was an absurdity to behold for everyone who noticed long enough to do a double-take.

It took a second, and then a third look to take in the whole picture. It wasn't just Papyrus in casual, almost careless clothes, it was the Captain of the Royal Guard walking with his spine bent, shoulders slumped, and hands in his jacket pockets as he lazily dragged on a cigarette, but it was the other half of the picture. It was Sans, who in juxtapose had a straight spine, squared shoulders, almost haughtily-lifted head, and an aura that just seemed to SCREAM 'dominant alpha male'.

But what held the picture together, what REALLY cinched it as many thinking it a world gone mad, was that what connected the two—literally—was the leash held in Sans's left hand that was connected to the collar around Papyrus's neck.

It was a two-week scene in the making, of near-constant talk between them about this particular kink that thrilled Sans and enticed Papyrus...of public exhibitionism. Of the absolute shock value worth its weight in precious metals, where they would be dropping their facades and bringing their REAL selves to the forefront.

There had been some hesitation, naturally. Both Sans and Papyrus were concerned about how it would affect Papyrus's standing, and began weighing out the cons of the matter. Sans made a point that Papyrus was STILL the strongest member of the Royal Guard and could take care of himself, and Papyrus contributed—as a slight thrill to himself, speaking little of his monarch—that King Asgore was still king, even if he did live under the thumb and shadow of Queen Toriel.

Sans assuaged Papyrus's anxiety by saying that their safeword could end it all. That with just one word, Sans would call it quits and they could claim it was a dumb bet. The Guard wouldn't particularly care about THAT, they got into weird shenanigans all the time. In fact, claiming it to be a bet would probably RAISE Papyrus's standing within them, seeing that he wasn't quite the tight-ass he made himself out to be.

It was the safeword that secured it for Papyrus; not the fact that he COULD use it, but the fact that Sans never failed him when it WAS used. Although he could feel a rush at the thought of exposing himself as the mere peon and Sans as the Lord, the fact that if it became too much he could end it all with one word gave him the security to go along with the thrill.

But now, being out and about and led by a leash by Sans, he felt....so at ease. It was the most at ease Papyrus had ever felt outside their home, like the leash and collar were feeding him comfort and security through Sans's hand. He was...at home, in his soul. He was being led by his Lord. He was safe.

Today, he was not the Captain of the Royal Guard. He was Papyrus, the servant to his Lord.

And did it ever feel great.

***

Sans's initial hesitation when they first began the trek to the labs vanished before they even left Snowdin. Yes, he and Papyrus got odd looks and he heard the whispering, but one flick of his blue eyelight in the direction of the whispering quelled it, and it felt GREAT. He did, however, keep an eye on Papyrus; he wouldn't want to keep this going if Papyrus was uncomfortable.

When he did his checking, he saw Papyrus following his lead almost lazily, the younger's aura being kept at calm, comfortable levels. Sans could also feel that Papyrus was feeling a sense of security from him, full of trust and faith that Sans had his well-being as a priority, and in turn felt calm and comfortable being like this.

Sans knew that Papyrus had a sense of comfort that came from his role in their home life. Although the situation was skewed and taboo, Papyrus being the little brother, the beta, the servant, was all he craved to be happy. It was a question in the back of both their minds, what would happen if they decided to bring it out to the rest of their lives, to even embody it completely.

Well. It was damn good, that was for sure.

 Knowing that Papyrus felt at ease made his pleasure increase tenfold, his mind already wandering to so many dark, obscene little crevices of how to enhance this new play-through; wearing his other outfit to work, punishing Papyrus over his desk, sitting in at a meeting with the other Royal Scientists with Papyrus under the table...ahh, the possibilities were ENDLESS, really!

He was practically skipping into the labs, where the other scientists and interns were staring at him with slack jaws and blown mental fuses.  Just for good measure, he scanned the room, his left eyelight glowing in warning to let them know that ANY kind of gossip that reached him would be met with unpleasantness, and then made his way to his office, waiting until the door was shut and locked before exhaling deeply and turning to Papyrus, his dominant facade cracking slightly as reality sat in.  He didn't want to get carried away and forget about Papyrus's well-being too.  "Are you in any distress?" he asked, not wanting to break the scene entirely with the safeword, but giving Papyrus the opportunity to do so if he so chose to.

Papyrus smiled, shaking his head.  "No, m'Lord," he replied earnestly.  "It was a...nice walk."  He lowered his head down further, as he always did when asking a favor of his Lord.  "...might we have another one soon?"

Sans grinned, tugging on the leash so Papyrus got the hint to kneel.  "You do not speak to me when you are above my level," he reminded, keeping the leash taut to make a tug of resistance on the collar around Papyrus's neck.  "I would punish you right now, but your Lord has a lot of work to do before it's time for evaluation from the Queen."  He reached down and unclipped the leash from the collar.  "You know your way around, Papyrus, so you can amuse yourself while your Lord finishes work."  He held Papyrus's jaw in his hand firmly, his eyelights going sharp.  "This is your day off.  You will behave yourself.  You will not perform any Guardsman duties.  You will be my good, obedient servant.  Am I understood?"

Papyrus nodded, his cheekbones dusted with orange.  "Yes, m'Lord," he replied.  "I understand."  Sans smiled, leaning down and pressing his teeth against Papyrus's head. 

"Good," he said, letting Papyrus's jaw go.  "You will report back to me for lunch.  Do not make me wait."  He turned to his desk and sat down, opening his texts and getting work on organizing his research.  Papyrus stood, gave Sans a short bow, and quietly left the office, making no noise as so to not disturb his Lord.

Walking through the labs now was a little more harrowing without his Lord there, but nobody really bothered him.  Not TOO surprising, he thought, since his Lord gave them all a glare icy enough that not even the Core could melt it.  He didn't think he'd be disturbed here in the labs through lunchtime, but still, the spike of nervousness he felt when his Lord wasn't around was getting to him, and he could really use a cigarette.

Papyrus made his way out of the lab compound, knowing that smoking inside was forbidden, and lit one up, taking a long, calming drag before exhaling and wondering what he could do to spend his time until lunch.  MTT/NTT Resort and Dance Club wasn't TOO far away, he could probably spend some time in there.  But ugh, those conveyor belts made him motion sick...

He finished his cigarette and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, taking a stroll around to stretch his legs, and within minutes became aware that he was being followed.  He paused in the middle of a walkway and turned around.  A group of Monsters had been tailing him, some looking curious while others looked amused, the obvious pack leader snorting loudly when Papyrus turned around.

"I fuckin' told you guys!" the Monster said, pointing in the general direction of Papyrus's neck.  "Like a dog beast!"  He and the other Monsters laughed, and Papyrus felt his hands clench in his pockets.  The Monster leader walked up to Papyrus, reaching out and grabbing the Skeleton's jacket collar, jerking it open to get a better look.  "Wow, THIS is going right to Slyrr!"  He whipped out his phone and took a picture, and Papyrus felt a jolt of panic; Slyrr was in the Royal Guard and the biggest gossip in the Underground.  He reached out to grab the phone from the Monster, only to be slapped right to the ground.

The slap made him go instinctively lax and subservient, half-braced up on the ground with his head lowered, not making any move to retaliate the hit.  The Monster stared for a moment before laughing and taking another picture.

"You've GOT to be joking!" he crooned, turning to the other Monsters.  "Guys, get over here and see this!"  He turned back to Papyrus and shoved the Skeleton onto his back with his foot, seeing the dust of orange on Papyrus's face.  "Oh my GOD, are you actually getting off on this?  Is THAT what the Great Captain Papyrus actually is?  Some sort of weakling FREAK?"  His foot trailed down Papyrus's body, pressing against the Skeleton's pelvis between his legs.  "What about THIS, Captain?  Does THIS turn you on too?" 

Papyrus's breath was coming out in short, half-panicked/half-aroused pants, his flush darkening and magic coalescing under the Monster's boot, his hands clenching into the hot rock ground as the other Monsters surrounded him.  He could hear the shutter of camera phones and the cackling of the Monsters as they passed ideas over his head of what to do NOW.

He wanted to get up.  He wanted to fight back.

_**"You will behave yourself."** _

He wanted to arrest these Monsters for such inappropriate conduct.

**_"You will not perform any Guardsman duties."_ **

He...

....he wanted....

.........wanted to......

The pack leader reached down and grabbed Papyrus's collar, jerking the Skeleton to sit up so Papyrus's skull was level with his crotch.  "Why don't you show us all what makes you so special that Sans has to parade you around like a trophy, hm?"

**_"You will be my good, obedient servant."_ **

_**"You will be my good, obedient servant."** _

_**"Good."** _

_**"Obedient."** _

****Papyrus obeyed.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sort of used to my second job and I got some massive inspiration points, so here's a new chapter I managed to whip up in its entirety last night. Happy Memorial Day!

“ _Paging Dr. Sans! Dr. Sans, report to the medical infirmary! Dr. Sans, medical infirmary!”_

Sans looked up from his equations, scowling as he pressed his pen into his paper, feeling his ire rise at being interrupted from the roll he was on in Void physics. If there was one thing he hated more than doing intern work, it was being interrupted from his own work when he was on a roll.

Still, at least he was being paged over the professional comm instead of Undyne poking her head in and saying “HEY SANS, CLEANUP ON AISLE FOUR!”

He sighed, marking his place and jotting down a quick note that would jog his memory back on track when he returned before heading out of his office and toward the infirmary. It took about two halls over to realize how QUIET it was, with the other scientists and interns staring at him in silence, a few having been whispering behind their hands only to clam right up when he walked by.

Normally, he wouldn't have been bothered by it; he and Papyrus got reactions like that when they first came in, so it was nothing he couldn't handle. However, looking at a few Monsters' faces...he could see something else.

Pity.

What...would there be to pity him for? He scowled harder. Oh GODS, if Undyne made a corpse explode again—!

He turned the corner that led to the infirmary, pausing when he saw Undyne standing outside the doors, but instead of the smug and unapologetic, she instead looked almost...remorseful. Reproachful. Sad. His pace slowed, coming to a stop in front of her. “What the hell's going on?” he asked, his hands flexing in his pockets slightly.

Undyne wrung her hands tightly, her sharp teeth digging into her lip as her eyes flicked between him and the doors. “...Before you go in,” she said slowly, her voice heavy and full of cautiousness, “you have to be CALM, okay?”

Sans felt a growl rumble in his chest. “Undyne, what the hell did you do THIS time—“

“SANS.” Her voice that sounded on the verge of sickness shut him up, watching as she took off her glasses and rubbed between her eyes. “...Sans....it....it's Papyrus.”

Sans felt his spine turn to ice, jerking his hands out of his pockets to shove her aside. “Sans, wait—!” Undyne said, grabbing for him. “SANS!”

Her pleas fell deaf to him as he bolted into the infirmary and hurried further into the area, several medical doctors jumping out of his way while others tried to stop him from entering a room in the back. He flung the more insistent ones out of the way by their souls before pushing the door open—

Oh.

Oh holy fucking GODS.

Papyrus was lying back on a bed, his clothing shredded and stained with various fluids that Sans could SMELL. His bones were scraped, cracked, and some were broken, the crack in his maxilla now reaching his eye socket and the tooth line area chipped away even more. What was worse, he REEKED of sexual hormones and magical residue, and even at first notice, Sans recognized at least five different sources.

At least five different sources that had laid—at minimum—a hand on his brother.

He edged into the room and up to the bed, seeing Papyrus's eyelights as tiny pinpricks and soul pulsing weakly. He shakily reached out and pressed his hand to the side of Papyrus's skull, hardly knowing what to say, what to DO...! “...Papy...?” he murmured, stroking over the cracked bone carefully. “...Papy, I'm here...”

Papyrus's eyelights flickered and focused on Sans, his smile twitching. “...m'Lord...” he whispered, his hand moving as best it could when connected to his broken arm, trying to touch Sans. Sans felt his soul flinch at the honorific, shaking his head.

“...reset,” he said, reaching down and touching Papyrus's hand. “Reset, Papy, okay?” He lightly squeezed Papyrus's hand, the gentle smile he was giving his brother slowly fading when he saw Papyrus's expression go from loving to panicked, the younger Skeleton's eyelights constricting into nothing as his breathing became ragged. “...Papyrus? Pap—“

Papyrus cut him off, screaming and clawing at his exposed bones as though trying to wrench something invisible off of them, to scratch away the filth that had been inflicted. The violent motions jostled his broken bones, and Sans could hear the sickening shifting and grating. “NO!” Papyrus screamed, clawing at his skull, his body jerking violently on the bed. “NO NO NO NO NO I DIDN'T WANT IT I DIDN'T WANT IT STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP—!”

Sans struggled to hold Papyrus down without causing anymore damage and was failing miserably, his vision blurring violently with tears as he tried to make himself heard over the screaming, to no avail. He could FEEL how far gone Papyrus was, unable to communicate with is brother through touch or sight as he always had before. Papyrus was screaming himself sick, vomiting residue everywhere, his broken bones snapping and cracking worse—

“PAPYRUS!” he shouted, his voice hitting his 'Lord' pitch. “I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!”

And Papyrus stopped.

The silence was so jarring it took Sans several moments to realize that Papyrus did in fact stop, feeling his brother's body go lax in his hold. The panic on Papyrus's face sifted seamlessly into subservience and a willingness to obey.

The sight made Sans sick to his nonexistent stomach.

Sans brushed his hand over Papyrus's skull, fighting to keep his voice steady and commanding. “You will keep yourself calm,” he said, somehow managing to keep more tears from falling down his face. “You will let the doctors heal you and clean you up. When they are done, you will rest and REMAIN resting until you are healed. Do you understand me, Papyrus?”

Papyrus nodded, giving Sans a smile. “Yes, m'Lord,” he murmured, relaxing back on the bed quietly. Sans clenched his jaw tightly before leaning down and pressing his teeth to Papyrus's head, stepping back and heading to the door. Before he went for the door handle, he paused and stood there for a moment, his hands flexing tightly.

“...Papyrus,” he said, not even having to force the command in his voice this time, “...aside from going directly with my orders...you will not obey a single thing ANYONE tells you to do. And if anyone tries to force you to...you will kill them without hesitation. Am I clear on that?”

He didn't turn around, but he could feel the minor hesitation from Papyrus before the younger Skeleton replied, “Yes, m'Lord.”

Sans gripped the door handle tightly and tugged it open, stepping out and facing the small gaggle of doctors in front of him. “If I hear any form of commotion coming from that room,” he addressed them stonily, his voice colder than a Snowdin blizzard, “I will make sure there isn't any dust for even your families to spread.” He stalked through them and up to Undyne, who backtracked a few steps in his wake. “I know you have that Underground-wide camera feed,” he told her. “Show me.”

Undyne swallowed hard, her fins flicking nervously. “...Sans, I don't think—“ She was cut off with a strangled gasp when Sans summoned a bone into his hand and pinned her to the wall by the neck with the blunt end with almost enough force to crush her windpipe.

“Did I FUCKING STUTTER?” he snapped, his left eyelight blazing blue, his free hand clenching tight enough to almost crack his phalanges. “Take me to the goddamn camera feed, or so help me I will kill you where you stand!” He pulled the bone away from her neck, not even giving her enough time to fully recover before shoving her forward. “MOVE IT!”

Undyne wisely hurried through the labs and down to her own personal area, keeping silent as she walked into a room that had a large screen television that was surrounded by snacks and anime paraphernalia. Without Sans asking, she switched the camera feed to a particular section of Hotland, not far from the labs. “...he was found here,” she said solemnly, her hand trembling over the REWIND button that would reverse the feed back an hour. “...Sans...you don't have to see...”

“Yes,” Sans replied, his hands clenching tightly. “I do. I want faces. I want NAMES. I WANT DUST.” He shot her a look sharp enough to shred metal with. “Do it.”

Undyne winced before pressing the button.

And Sans saw RED.

He saw unspeakable things being done to his brother, simultaneously, by several Monsters.

He could see his brother crying.

He could see Papyrus's jaw moving when his mouth wasn't filled with something or the other, desperately saying something. Sans's hand shook with rage as he reached out and pressed a button that provided audio with the video.

_“RESET!”_

_“RESET!”_

_“RESET!”_

_“RESET!”_

_“M'LORD!”_

_“PLEASE!”_

_“M'LORD!”_

_“RESET!”_

_“RESET!”_

_“RESET!”_

_**“SANS!”** _

San's vision went BLACK as he wrenched the paneling for the feed right out of the ground and threw it into the screen, the hellishness vanishing from view, but he could still SEE what was being done. He could still HEAR his brother's pleading.

RESET.

_**“I promise you, Papyrus, if you ever want to stop it, just say the safeword. I'll stop it all.”** _

RESET.

Papyrus screamed that word, THEIR word, that should have ended it all.

RESET.

But it didn't stop. He endured torture and didn't fight back because....because..........

_He was still in the game._

RESET.

_They were BOTH still in the game._

RESET.

RESET.

RESET.

HE WANTED TO RESET.

_**WHY WASN'T IT STOPPING!?** _

“Undyne?”

Undyne turned and saw Alphys step inside, staring at the demolished panel and screen in shock, looking between that and Sans with an unreadable expression. “...What the fuck is going on?” she demanded. “I've got the whole goddamn Guard passing around pictures of...I can't even DESCRIBE it...!” She whipped out her phone, a disgustingly scandalized picture of Papyrus on the screen. “What the hell even IS this shit!?”

Undyne didn't even have time to come up with SOME answer before both she and Alphys felt a pulse of homicidal magic throb from Sans's form. The sensation made every nerve in their bodies go numb, their sins crawl up their spines, made them FEAR for their LIVES just FEELING it. Sans's shoulders shook violently for a moment before relaxing, then squaring out as he turned to face Alphys, his left eyelight a solid, quivering blue.

“...Alphys,” he said, his voice even with an undertone of pure EVIL, “I wish to lodge a formal complaint against a group of Monsters...and then kill them.”

Alphys fought to respond, and could only stammer as she clambered after Sans, who stalked out of the room and toward the exit of the labs. Halfway out the door, she found her voice. “Sans, just what the actual HELL is going on!?” she demanded. “And where is the Captain?! What happened to him!?”

Sans's domineering posture and aura would do a retired Guardsman proud as he stalked his way through Hotland, one look being enough to make anyone jump out of his way. “Papyrus was attacked,” he said, his clenched hands quivering. “He was attacked and brutalized and USED, and I WON'T STAND FOR IT!”

Alphys was spared in replying when Sans stopped short, and she almost crashed into him. Ahead of them was a group of Monsters who where guffawing and making obscene comments over pictures in their phones, and judging from Sans's killer aura intensifying, they were the ones he was looking for. “Sans, I forbid you from doing anything stupid—!”

The Monsters ahead of them let out shouts of pain and surprise when bones sprung from the ground, mostly entrapping them but some being impaled through their limbs as Sans ignored Alphys and stalked up to them, his left eyelight blazing.

“Hey, guys,” he said, his voice teetering on the edge of insanity, his grin frightening to behold. “Just finished having some FUN with my little brother?”

“Sans, STOP!” Alphys shouted, grabbing his shoulder. “Regardless of their actions, there has to be PROOF and a conviction of their crimes!”

“WE DIDN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING WORTH THIS BULLSHIT!” one Monster snarled, clenching a hand into one of the bone constructs. “Alphys, are you REALLY gonna let this little shit do this, just because his brother is a whore?!”

Alphys had to physically restrain Sans, giving the Monster a glare. “REGARDLESS, that is STILL the Captain of the Royal Guard we're speaking of!” she snapped at him. “And if there was an attack on his person—“

“An ATTACK!?” the Monster half-laughed. “You think just because he's the Captain he should get special treatment just because a sex scandal gets out and shows the whole Underground that he's a weak little slut!?” He gave Sans a dirty grin. “We didn't do ANYTHING he didn't lie back and LET us do! He didn't even say 'no'! Just this 'reset' shit and calling out for 'm'Lord' like a little bitch in heat, nothing WE did was illegal! So where's your fucking conviction, huh!?”

Alphys began trembling with rage herself; as much as she often tried to bully Papyrus out of the Captain ranking, THIS was still something that went BEYOND her own scruples. This was SICK. But the worst part was, the asshole was RIGHT. She grit her teeth hard, biting back a sigh as she prepared to restrain Sans from doing anything to get HIM convicted instead, but paused when she felt Sans's shoulders shake under her hands and heard soft, unhinged chuckling.

Sans lifted his head, his grin cold and eyelight on fire. “You fucking IDIOTS,” he laughed, his aura flickering almost brokenly. “You goddamn fucking IDIOTS just convicted YOURSELVES!” He walked up to the bone cage that encased them, reaching into his pocket and taking out a strip of shredded leather; a collar. “Alphys, I want to change my accusation,” he stated. “I want to convict these lowlife FUCKERS of permanently damaging the personal property of a Royal Employee.”

The other Monsters stared at him, stunned. “What the hell is that even supposed to mean?” Alphys demanded. “What—“

“You JUST heard it!” Sans exclaimed, his voice hitting a hysterical pitch. “They ADMITTED that Papyrus called out for ME. His LORD. His MASTER. Papyrus is MY property.” He tossed her the collar where, linked to the metal loop, was a small homemade tag that said 'PROPERTY OF SANS'.

She stared at it for a long moment, clenching her fist around it. “...Sans...” she said lowly, her voice shaking. “...if I accept this accusation as grounds for retaliation, that means that by LAW, Papyrus will LITERALLY be property. He'll lose EVERYTHING.”

Sans made loud 'tch' sound, spitting on the ground. “WHAT 'everything'?” he demanded. “He fucking hated his life. He hated his goddamn JOB. His fellow Guardsmen made his life a living HELL.” His sideways glare at her was sharp enough to cut through diamond, and she once more felt her sins crawl up her back. “I AM his everything.” He turned back to the Monsters. “And since you have your proof and conviction—“

He raised his hands above his head, a mass of bone spikes appearing above the bone enclosure, and without stopping to hear any pleas for mercy, brought the mass down with enough force to send blood splattering before the Monsters all turned to dust.

Sans stood there for a long moment, his eye sockets closed as though to savor the moment sweetly before turning to Alphys, his clothes and skull sprayed with blood. “...My revenge is pacified,” he told her. “I'll give you a taste of Captain responsibility, and leave the cleanup and paperwork to your CAPABLE hands.”

Without a dismissal, he turned on heel and made his way back to the labs, his bone constructs dissolving and leaving a dark red stain on the ground and a thoroughly traumatized Alphys behind him.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be delving more into familiar Swapfell territory; but I want to thank you ALL for the reviews and support I've gotten for this fic! I'm also debating putting the chapters up on my tumblr, so if that's a thing you guys want, hit me up, I'm angelia-dark.tumblr.com !

Everything was one big fucking MESS.

There was no way to stop the circulation of the pictures and short videos that the Monsters fed out to the rest of the Underground, and by the time Sans returned to the infirmary to be with Papyrus, nearly everyone with a cellphone or a computer had the worst look at their Captain of the Royal Guard.

Including the monarchy.

Suffice to say, King Asgore was less than pleased that his hand-picked Captain of the Royal Guard was the subject of a massive scandal that went Underground-wide in less than two hours, and showed more frightening backbone and nerve than many had ever seen as he stormed into the lab infirmary looking for an explanation.

By the time he had reached the room Papyrus was being held, however, both of the Skeleton brothers were gone.

Back in Snowdin, Sans carried his sleeping brother to their bed, settling him down and tucking him in before making sure every door and window was locked and secure. Nobody, not their neighbors, and not even the goddamn KING, was going to be upsetting Papyrus.

Sans made sure all the lights were out in his house to deter any nosier solicitors before rummaging around the kitchen cabinet and taking out a bottle of liquor and pouring himself a glass, needing SOMETHING to numb his blazing nerves. A thousand agonizing thoughts passed through his mind at once, and none of them were comforting.

He knocked back his third glass of the liquor before burying his face in his hands, his phalanges digging into his skull painfully as the images of the indescribable brutality that had been forced onto his brother, the sound of the brokenness of Papyrus's cries ringing in his mind, and knowing that it was ALL HIS FAULT.

He should have been more careful. He should have seen the signs of Papyrus becoming too immersed into their game, should have kept him close, should have protected him, should have BEEN THERE FOR HIM SHOULD HAVE STOPPED IT SHOULD HAVE SAVED HIM

Sans hurled the empty glass across the room, hearing it shatter against the wall as he slumped out of the chair and to the floor, staring at his shaking hands with his buzz-blurred vision and fighting to find a way to FIX THIS.

...but there WAS no fixing this.

He'd fucked up, and he'd fucked up beyond what could be repaired.

Papyrus's reputation was DESTROYED now...and what was worse, his MIND was destroyed. Sans had seen enough to know that Papyrus was now trapped inside their game, where his one and only comfort was that his 'Lord' was there to make it better, to tell him what to do and have the world make sense again. This wasn't even a game anymore. This was Papyrus's reality now. Anything else would shatter what was left of Papyrus's sanity.

Fuck.....goddamn FUCK, and what was WORSE, Sans had made Papyrus his PROPERTY by LAW, solidifying the absolute unsalvagability of the situation.

….....what was real, anymore?

What was a game?

What was ANYTHING?

Sans let his body go lax, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling and feeling his head swim from both the mountain of bullshit and the liquor to go with it, hearing his phone buzz with yet another message. A message from Undyne, begging him to call her back? A demanding summons from Queen Toriel? A forwarded picture or video of his brother with some disgustingly fucked-up mocking caption? He didn't know. He didn't CARE.

He reached into his pocket and took it out, seeing a message on the screen not of the three prior possibilities, but instead a message from Alphys.

**I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU ASAP. NO TRICKS OR TAGALONGS.**

Sans stared at the message for the longest time before rubbing his face with his free hand and sitting up, stumbling upstairs to his bedroom and looking down at Papyrus's peacefully-sleeping form for several long minutes.

Goddamn it...how the fuck could Papyrus look so peaceful and innocent, even after all of this? He reached out and brushed his fingertips over Papyrus's face, almost flinching back when Papyrus let out a soft sigh and leaned into Sans's touch. It wasn't right. NOTHING about this was right, especially the thought Sans had that he would rather see Papyrus a wreck than CONTENT as long as he was here.

…..so fucked up.

He pulled out his phone and texted Alphys back.

**come to my house. be subtle and use the back door.**

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he pulled the sheets up around Papyrus's shoulders more snugly before pressing his teeth against Papyrus's cheekbone lightly, and headed downstairs to wait.

* * *

 

It was still another hour before Alphys came by, and she knocked softly on the back door just as instructed. He let her in, seeing she'd also taken instruction and came by in civilian clothes and a large coat to block out the Snowdin chill.  Sans opened the door for her, looking more battle-worn than most Guards she'd been around, his solid blue eyelight looking her over critically before stepping aside and letting her in.  Alphys looked around quietly, having never been inside her Captain's home, but didn't presume to be nosy as she watched Sans close the door and lock it.

They stood in silence for a long time before Alphys spoke.  "...how is he?" she asked.  Sans gave her a sharp look as though determining whether or not she was being factious before turning and sitting at the kitchen table and picking up his liquor bottle to drain what was left of it.

"About as good as you'd imagine," he replied, contemplating the empty bottle before setting it back on the table.  "What with being forced and violated and his reputation in the shitter."  He leaned back, scowling.  "...he's asleep right now.  And he's not going to be fit for company for a long time until I get him situated and see how he reacts to other people again."

Alphys flexed her hands tightly before taking the seat across from Sans, keeping her eye to the table.  "...what the fuck even happened?" she asked.  "...and I'm not just asking because I have to have blanks filled in the reports.  I'm asking for his sake too."

"Like you give a fuck."

"I DO."  She rubbed her face, sighing.  "...I might not be...the best second-in-command...or even the best ANYTHING...and yes...I've been gunning for his job for a long time...but I never wanted ANYTHING like this!  You have to know, even with all the shit I did, I never did anything REMOTELY close to sabotaging his life this way."  She braced her head up in her hands, looking weary with guilt.  "...he's the best Guard King Asgore's got, the best Captain we could have hoped for, and now it's all gone.  I at least want to know WHY." 

Sans gave her another shrewd look before sighing, looking like he wished for another bottle of liquor to appear and make this easier. “...it was supposed to just be a part of our game,” he replied, staring at his hands. “But I didn't know how far into the game he really was. He could have killed all of those fuckers easily...but...” His phalanges dug into the wood of the table, making slight indention marks. “...He was under my command, and I had...I told him to behave...to not do anything Guard-related...” His fingers curled, making scratches in the wood. “...and now he's broken...he's broken, and it's all my fault...”

His shoulders shook with mirthless laughter, his aura flickering with the same broken insanity Alphys had witnessed before. “What....what kind of fucking dom AM I...that I can't even protect my precious little brother from HIMSELF...?” He laughed harder, pressing his face into his hands, his fingers digging into his skull as his blue eyelight flickered behind his metacarpals. The eyelight honed in on Alphys's stricken expression, and Sans reared back as though he had been insulted.

“NO!” he snapped, making her jump a little. “You don't GET to pass your fucking judgement in my own goddamn house! Papyrus was HAPPY here! YOU all made him miserable enough that he wanted to fucking DUST himself on a DAILY BASIS—“

“Sans, for fuck's sake—!” Alphys cut in, holding her hands up in a pacifying manner. “...I'm not fucking judging you. Everyone and their goddamn dog beast knows about you and Papyrus.” She let out a mirthless scoff. “....we figured you two were an item, but we knew you were fucking after Undyne and I exchanged stories about the changes in our two favorite punching bags. Sex changes everything.”

Sans made an indiscernible sound, rubbing his face again. “We've been 'fucking' for years,” he replied. “But this...game we've been playing...where we played out what we wanted out of LIFE instead of just in our home...THAT changed everything.”

Alphys arched a brow. “So, what? You're saying Papyrus WANTS to be...?”

“My subservient pet who gets off to pain and degradation? Yes.” Sans's solid eyelight pinned her with a look that was both freezing and searing. “Just like I want to bend him to my will, to dominate him, and anyone else who ever tried to put me under their thumb.” The eyelight glimmered almost hungrily. “To tear anyone who hurts me or him to pieces.”

His conviction and bloodlust almost made Alphys shudder, especially at the memory of seeing him dispatch that group of Monsters with such EASE. “...you certainly have the power to do so,” she said. “...didn't know you had it in you.”

Sans snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Captain Gaster was my father too,” he told her. “He taught me well enough when I was younger, but there was little I could do with it with only one HP, especially when he took more of an interest in Papyrus.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “...Papyrus always had more talent and finesse for magic. My magic reserves are worthless if I can't control it well enough for battle, so I went into science instead.”

“...Still,” Alphys replied, her expression contemplative, “if you have THAT kind of ability...you're going to need it.” She rubbed the space between her eyes. “...Papyrus's reputation is shattered...and a LOT of Monsters had issues with him, even for shit as small as probationary periods for minor offenses. If he steps outside of this house, and if he's not in the right mind to defend himself, he's going to be a HUGE target. I've already weeded out a few Guards I need to keep an eye on, just from their gossip.”

Sans's eyelight began to glow. “Which ones?”

“I've got it taken care of—“

“ _I_ HAD OUR SITUATION 'TAKEN CARE OF'!” Sans snarled. “Shit like this is only solved one way, and one way only, and that's to tear off limbs or souls!” His phalanges dug into the table again, making the wood creak. “Give me names, Alphys. I will not even entertain the NOTION of letting Papyrus out of the house if there's danger I can't protect him from.”

Alphys shared a stare-down for the longest time before sitting back again. “...Felix, Russel, and Josie,” she replied. “There's only talk. For NOW. But like I said, I'm keeping an eye on those three. And I FORBID you from going after them WITHOUT reasonable cause. You got LUCKY with those other Monsters confessing, paired with you making Papyrus your...your property.”

She paused, then reached into her pocket and took out the torn collar Sans had tossed to her before as evidence, setting it on the table. “...I won't say I understand exactly what you two were...ARE doing,” she said. “...but I wish you the best in helping him get better. Especially considering the shitstorm you're about to hit with...you and Papyrus both.”

Sans reached out, running his fingers over the collar almost reverently. “...I can handle it,” he told her. “No matter who says what...even if Asgore or Toriel have anything to say about...I'll handle this.”

Alphys gave him a nod before standing. “...You realize I'm...going to have to air all of this dirty laundry into my report,” she said. “...everyone will know.” Sans curled his hand around the collar, laughing softly.

“...It's what we wanted,” he said. “Everyone to know. Not like THIS, but....in a way where we weren't hiding anymore.” He flicked his eyelights up to her. “Put it all in the report. Including this.” He stood up, his stature short but his aura taking up the entire kitchen.

“If ANYONE has ANYTHING to say about it, they had best say it to my face. Because if they go for my back, I'll tear their souls out of their bodies and dust it in my hands. And they'll PRAY for such a merciful ending, should they go after Papyrus.”

Alphys swallowed hard, the chill of the Snowdin residence suddenly feeling more than a little warm from her crawling nerves. “...you'd make a damn fine Guard,” she remarked, tugging her hood up. “Expect me to bother you about that when I'm Captain.”

Sans snorted. “And expect me to make it difficult for you,” he replied. “See you at the hearing in the Capitol.” Alphys gave him a nod, taking her leave.

Sans sat in silence for several long minutes before standing, locking the door, and walking upstairs to his bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed beside Papyrus, hugging his little brother to him tightly and feeding him all the goodness that was left in his soul to ease any hurt that was still in Papyrus's own.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Hearings that reached the level of which this entire scandal went were so rare that it took a few extra days to dust off the proceeding how-to's and get everyone together. Altogether, it was a trial where judgement was passed by the highest-ranking Monsters in the Underground, including King Asgore, Queen Toriel, and since there was no longer a Prince to stand as third and Alphys was set as key witness to Sans, Doctor Undyne took the third judge position, her status as the Head Royal Scientist being just high enough to fill the spot.

There was a seldom-used hall in the castle made up just for this event, with Asgore, Toriel, and Undyne situated up in the front with Monsters of important position or standing as witnesses to the hearing. Although normally the hearing was supposed to be a private matter in which to quietly deal with huge issues of the kingdom, the publicity was unavoidable. Already, there was a crowd outside the castle, and the Capitol had never been more bustling and noisy.

Even from inside the hearing room, Asgore could hear the crowd outside, their jeering and excitement bordering on bloodthirsty, and couldn't help but think of how much more manageable the crowd control could be if only Papyrus wasn't the center of this entire scandal. Seeing that first picture had been jarring enough, but when more came in, as well as VIDEOS, he nearly had a heart attack at the sight and broke his phone to avoid having to see anymore.

Papyrus had always been one of his more favored subjects, much like his father Gaster had been. While Gaster had been more of a friend to Asgore, Papyrus gained more favor from Toriel at how thorough and pin-tidy the Skeleton was with his job. This scandal was just as much of a shock to her as it was to Asgore.

But Papyrus was only PART of the scandal; the second part was his brother, Sans. According to Alphys's reports, Sans had dispatched the group of Monsters responsible for the scandal in the first place with ease with an incredibly unorthodox and disturbing reason: they had damaged Sans's 'property', and according to Alphys, it was entirely LEGAL.

The two Skeletons had been untouchable and unreachable for the past week, but Sans had sent his intention to arrive on time for the hearing with Alphys's added report as him saying  _ ' _ _I'll tear their souls out of their bodies and dust it in my hands'_ if there was any move on his person, with a worse fate for those who went after Papyrus. The almost haunted look on Alphys's face when she recanted that statement had Asgore reminding himself that Gaster had TWO sons, and if Papyrus hadn't inherited the late former Captain's temperament, then it stood to reason that it should fall to Sans instead.

Asgore heard the gong of the clock tower striking noon, and wondered where the basis of the hearing were, lifting his head sharply when he heard the sound of a commotion outside quickly followed by the doors opening. Just past the doors, Asgore could see twin walls of bones jutting from the ground, creating a clear pathway for the new arrivals.

Alphys led the front, her battle axe in hand but lowered and not intended to be used. The doors closed behind the trio, and the silence was broken by the sound of heels clicking on the floor as they walked forward.

It was...taking some time to process the whole picture. Asgore had never seen Alphys look so cowed before, for one, but that paled entirely in comparison to her compatriots. Asgore instinctively honed in on Papyrus, already feeling a twinge of worry for the Skeleton, what with what happened, but he was honest-to-gods surprised to see the tall Skeleton looking completely at ease with his surroundings.

Hell, he was surprised to see Papyrus looking at ease at ALL. Papyrus's posture was careless and slumped, hands shoved into his jean pockets with a half-spent cigarette resting between his teeth. He almost looked BORED...but his expression was anything BUT. Even from this short distance, Asgore could see that Papyrus had eyelights only on the third member of the new arrival party...

...and that was where Asgore felt his world tip sideways.

Sans was walking a pace in front of Papyrus, his presence almost filling up the room with a display of power-play and barely-restrained killer intent. His aura was intense enough that the rest of his appearance wasn't even necessary, but he walked up to the seating area in what appeared to be a set of homemade armored clothing that was obviously intended to be functional if need be. Upon a second look, Asgore recognized several pieces as coming from Papyrus's own armor.

Despite the armored parts, the rest seemed almost risque with Sans exposing his spine, shorts and black leg covers that only came halfway up his femurs, and leather boots that had heels that seemed unnecessarily high and sharp. Still, the overall image blended in perfectly with his presence, something odd and disarming, yet sharp and armed to the teeth and ready to strike if the need arose.

Sans made his way up to the front, inclining his head in respect to the Royals as opposed to Alphys's bow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We've come as requested,” he said, his voice pitched low, yet loud and commanding. “I want this done as quickly as possible, I don't want Papyrus being exposed to this nonsense more than necessary.”

The Skeleton hovering above and behind him didn't seem all that bothered by the group of people, instead keeping his eyelights down at Sans's head. However, Asgore saw the younger Skeleton's shoulders hunch further, as though wishing he could curl up in a ball and block everything out.

Sans flicked his eyelights over to his younger brother. “Sit,” he commanded, and Papyrus immediately sat himself on a chair. Sans remained standing with Alphys, his expression plainly saying 'ready when you are'.

Asgore traded a look with Toriel before picking up the file. “This is...perhaps the most unorthodox thing I've ever read...and that is being generous,” he said. “And I...hardly know where to begin.”

“I do,” Sans replied, tapping his finger on his arm. “I take responsibility for what brought this all about. I neglected to see how deeply immersed Papyrus was in our personal life, and his option to defend himself was kept quelled. However, he DID want it to stop, and yet they did not. When I saw Papyrus, he was broken. Entirely. He was and still is unable to handle reality.”

Toriel glanced that the file with distaste. “And the claim of 'damage to property'?” she asked. “A very hefty accusation, considering servitude is a rarity here.”

Sans reached over to Papyrus and hooked his finger under the loose end of a frayed and shredded collar, lifting it slightly to show just what it was. “No claim. Papyrus IS my property,” he replied. “He willingly handed his life to me to do with as I pleased, and that was BEFORE the incident occurred.”

Asgore frowned. “You DO realize that servants of Monsters, 'property', in this case, are unable to have positions of power,” he said.

“I do.”

“Papyrus is—was—Captain of the Royal Guard. Why would he give that up?”

“Simply because it was mismanaged so horribly that he was given the excessive brunt of the workload, leaving the rest of the Guard to pace around and twiddle their thumbs,” Sans stated bluntly. “Papyrus is overburdened, depressed to the point of suicidal, and often came home in tears because he thought he would have to endure it to his dusting day. He hated his job, and he hated his life. Handing control over both eased the burden on his soul exponentially. Losing his standing in the Guard was literally no skin off his bones.”

Asgore was trying to ignore the look of disappointed disapproval his wife was giving him. “Was it truly that bad?” he asked, somewhat regretting the question when Sans's blue eyelights blazed slightly.

“He shared EVERYTHING with me,” he replied testily. “He was close to dusting himself more than once because of that hellish job, and sometimes he was gone for days or weeks on end without a break. So YES. It was THAT BAD.”

Toriel finished giving her husband a look of disdain at his incompetence at running the Guard before turning to Sans. “And you believe you help his....'condition',” she stated. “How so?”

“We began a game at home where he handed over the reins of his life completely to me,” Sans answered. “It was mutually beneficial, considering I was tired of being the lab clean-up boy and punching bag and it was a decidedly good way to express my pent-up anger and regression without compromising my job.”

“So you inflicted pain on him.”

“I did.”

“And he did not object?”

“Papyrus gets off on pain, and often asks me to intensify the situation. For that reason, we established a safeword, both for his safety, and in the instances where I felt uncomfortable inflicting a certain action on him. It's been used and respected many times.”

“A safeword.”

“It stops the scene. Entirely.”

“And what is it?”

Sans's hands clenched into his arms, the blue glow in his eyelights dimming. “I can't say it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he is experiencing a scene right now.”

Asgore and Toriel glanced at Papyrus, who continued to sit silently with his hands in his lap, head bowed meekly, and his behavior made much more sense to the two. Asgore's claws dug into the file in front of him, not knowing if he was feeling more pity or anger at the situation. “...this is a GAME to him, right now?” he demanded, fighting to keep his voice even.

“Yes,” Sans replied. “Only, less of a 'game' and more of...a skewed reality. One that makes sense to him, and keeps him calm. It's blocking out what happened to him, functioning as his coping mechanism.” Sans's arms unfolded, instead clasping his hands behind his back. “I've been taking small strides into easing him back into THIS reality, but...” For the first time since arriving, Sans's demeanor flickered, his eyelights flicking to Papyrus worriedly. “...It's a very slow, and difficult process.”

Toriel's hands clasped together tightly. “...And saying this 'safeword' would bring him out of his delusions—“

“Out of his REALITY,” Sans interrupted, his voice going sharp. “He is under NO delusions. Right now, the fact that I am his Lord, and I am keeping him safe, is one-hundred percent REAL. And in any case, it's only ME saying the safeword that will bring him out of it. For his own protection, I instilled in him that I am the ONLY person he will take orders from, while he was still receptive to outside influence.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Alphys helped keep everyone else at bay while I prepped Papyrus up for this hearing,” Sans said, glancing at Alphys. “To test out his conditioning, I had her say it. He displayed only nervousness until I comforted him.”

Asgore frowned, still looking at Papyrus. “...How bad is it?” he asked. Sans gave him a hard look before tightening his jaw, his expression almost pained before he turned to Papyrus and leaned in close, murmuring something that Asgore couldn't hear.

Immediately, Papyrus began screaming bloody murder, his magic thrashing out violently as bone jutted from the floor around himself and Sans, covering his head with his hands. Several Guards rushed forward with intent to put a stop to it, but backed away when Alphys brandished her axe at them.

“He's got this!” she snapped as Sans reached down and took Papyrus's head in his hands.

“STOP,” Sans said, his voice calm but ringing through the room with enough force to quell all of the violent magic crackling in the air. On command, Papyrus was silenced, going slack in Sans's hold. “Deep breaths,” Sans continued. “Sit back down.” Papyrus took several deep, rattling breaths as he sat back down in the chair, going back to his silent, meek demeanor within moments.

Sans looked back up to Toriel and Asgore, looking massively irritated that he had to do that at all. “You can see WHY it's preferred he stay in this reality,” he said, his voice hard.

Asgore and Toriel were silent for several long moments before Toriel spoke again. “...I have...reviewed the evidence of this scandal,” she said, her voice laced with acidic disdain. “And in comparison to this display, he was not putting up much of a fight, although he clearly did not consent entirely. And it seems that this 'game' of yours is to blame.” She ignored the aghast looks Undyne and Alphys gave her, locking eyes with Sans. “Despite this demure display, Papyrus is not weak by ANY stretch of the imagination. “With what you've told me, and the full contents of the reports, YOU began this game of yours, YOU proclaimed complete responsibility over Papyrus's well-being, and it is because of that, HE is in this mess.”

She sat back in her chair, her expression unapologetic. “It begs the question of whether or not you are fit to care for him anymore, if you allow something like this to happen.”

Alphys actually took a few steps away from Sans, the Skeleton's eye sockets having gone blank. Sans was deathly silent before his smile broadened and his shoulders shook with wrathful laughter. “...me....ME allowing this to happen...?” he bit out, the leather of his gloves creaking as his hands clenched. “WHAT ABOUT YOU!?”

He stomped his foot hard, the heel making a shattering crack in the hall. “NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU—EITHER OF YOU—HAD DONE HALFWAY-DECENT JOBS IN RUNNING YOUR OWN GODDAMN SERVICES!” His left eyelight blazed brightly, his eye socket filling with blue hellfire as he pointed to Papyrus, who remained unmoving where he sat. “How the FUCK can you sit there and pass judgement on ME for driving Papyrus to THIS state when it was ASGORE'S FUCKING FAULT for allowing Papyrus to get to the point of SUICIDAL TENDENCIES!? How can YOU, Toriel, speak to ME of being fit for supervision when YOU mismanage the labs so badly that I, the SENIOR SCIENTIST, haven't had a promotion in six years despite being head of Void physics AND helping every other incompetent scientist with their OWN work!?”

A baritone growl resonated through the room, aimed primarily at the Guards who were up in arms again despite Alphys's attempts to keep them back. “You're taking Papyrus away from me over my cold dust pile, you hear me?! I WON'T ALLOW IT!”

“Sans—“ Asgore tried to diffuse the situation, cutting off when Sans's hand twitched, forming bones mid-air. “There is no need for this!”

“Cease and desist before I have you arrested!” Toriel snapped.

“FUCK YOU—“

“M'Lord? May I speak?”

Everything went quiet when Papyrus spoke, his voice soft but cutting through easily. Sans's violent magic flaring ebbed down, his eyelights going soft as he vanished his bone constructs. “...You may,” he replied.

Papyrus quietly stood up, fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and lit one up, taking a drag with slightly-shaking hands before exhaling softly. “...I know that your intentions are good, Queen Toriel,” he said quietly, his head still bowed submissively. “...But I will not allow myself to be taken away from him.” His eyelights flicked upward, the lights surprisingly sharp for his submissive posture and tone. “Rest assured the first pile of dust to come from that happening will be my own.”

He lifted his head, the action more defiant than anything. “I live to serve my Lord, knowing that he will protect me and make me happy. Whether you let us go home or incarcerate him, I will still be there by his side, at his command.” His eyelights grew sharper for a brief moment, throwing his hand out to the side, a sharp yelp coming from a Guard who appeared to be drawing his arm back to let an arrow fly at Sans, but now had his arm impaled through with a sharp bone construct, pinning it to the wall.

“...and may the gods have mercy on ANYONE who tries to harm m'Lord, because I will have NONE.”

His magic pulsed out slightly for a moment until Sans walked over and put a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Enough,” Sans said firmly, and Papyrus's magic ebbed down, his posture going back to submissive. Sans looked back up at Toriel and Asgore, his expression a mix of irritation and weariness.

“...keep tabs on us if you must,” Sans said quietly, “but do not take him away from me. I will do better....BE better...and I can guarantee an improvement in him. All I ask is that you just don't take him away from me.”

There was silence in the room for a long time until Asgore sighed, rubbing between his eyes before sitting back. “...if there is nothing else to cover, then I propose we vote on a ruling.” He folded his hands together tightly. “...and I vote to give them a chance, WITH tabs being taken. Even servants are protected under Monster law.”

Toriel's jaw tightened. “...I vote for separation,” she stated. “There is simply too much of a risk with their individual states of mind, let alone what it would do if they were together.”

Sans's hands clenched, but he said nothing, looking at Undyne, who had been silent through the entire hearing and was there just as a third judge and now the tie-breaker. Undyne wrung her hands tighter, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“...I was there when Papyrus first came in,” she said. “I saw first-hand what had been done to him....I saw what happened when...THAT word was spoken...and I saw how Sans handled it. All of it. And....I honestly feel it's my best vote to keep them together.”

Sans looked like he was barely containing himself from collapsing from relief; Papyrus dropped his cigarette on the ground as he fell to his knees and reached out to hug Sans's middle. Sans reached down and petted Papyrus's head before straightening his spine and steeling his gaze back at the trio in front of him. “If that is all,” he said softly, “I would like for us to leave now.”

Toriel, obviously not happy with the outcome, gave Sans a steely look. “Very well,” she replied. “BUT. You WILL have tabs kept close to you, and I EXPECT an improvement in your brother's mental state within the year. If ANYTHING like this ever happens again, I will make PERSONALLY sure I will have my way. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Sans replied. “But you won't have your way.”

And then he and Papyrus were gone, only the dying cigarette on the ground being proof that they had even been there to begin with.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Alphys knocked on the Skeleton brothers' door, her arms loaded with files and several personal items that belonged to Papyrus that were left at the Guard HQ office, and somewhat dreading this visit.

It had been three days since the hearing and much like the week leading up to it, there had been little to no contact with the brothers. The only indication that they were at home were the reports of the lights going on and off in their house and the occasional Monster losing a limb to a bone spike if they crossed the property line. Finally, though, Alphys managed to find Sans's phone number in Papyrus's things and texted to ask if he wanted Papyrus's stuff. She was given the okay, and here she was.

She heard the door unlock and creak open, Sans staring at her before his eyelights flicked behind her. “Come in,” he said, opening the door a little wider. Alphys hurried inside, barely getting her tail in the door before it was quickly shut and re-locked. She remained where she was, quietly looking around and seeing Papyrus sitting on the floor in front of the couch watching TV, not looking up at all.

She shifted the items in her arms, swallowing before addressing Sans. “...how is he?” she asked. Sans glanced at Papyrus, taking the items from her and looking them over.

“Well enough,” he replied, setting a few of them down. “He's just watching some MTT right now to help with recovery...he wont be fit to interact with for another hour or so.”

Alphys glanced at Papyrus again. “...how's that work?” she asked. Sans motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen, taking out a bottle of liquor and a few glasses.

“I'm still working on bringing him into this reality,” he said, pouring out the drinks. “It works better if he has things that make him happy or relaxed going on in the background. If he focuses on that after I say the safeword, he doesn't freak out.”

Alphys's fingers clenched around her glass, her voice going low. “...you mean he's out of the scene right now?” she asked. Sans nodded, knocking back his in one go.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It's not ideal, but as long as he's not screaming the roof down, I'll take it. There's very little besides sex and television that he actually enjoys.”

He poured himself out another glass as Alphys swallowed her guilt with her drink and shot a glance back at Papyrus again before turning to Sans and putting a folder on the table. “...it's the legal documentation of servitude. You need to make it official.”

Sans slid the documents over to his side of the table, quickly looking them over before pulling out a pen and signing them, draining his second glass. “...what's the word on the problem Monsters in the Guard?” he asked. Alphys put the documents back into the folder, rubbing between her eyes.

“They're still talking,” she replied. “I've had to punch a few heads myself but...Papyrus did have some allies there...ones who really respected him as Captain. I've got them scoping out for troublemakers.”  She took another sip of her drink, leaning her head on her hand.  "...I guess it's...way too late to say how sorry I am for all of this...for my hand in pushing him to this state."

Sans drummed his fingers on the table, his jaw tightening minutely before relaxing.  "Normally, I would say yes," he replied, his voice restrained but not hostile.  "But Papyrus would forgive you, and I know you're not just saying it to make yourself feel better.  You're just a spoiled shit who wanted something someone else had.  It happens.  And...as for keeping that Guard up and running..."  He paused, knocking back a third glass.  "...I'm willing to hear you out and make some sort of arrangement considering the Guard."

Alphys looked up, blinking.  "What, really?" she asked.  "...you want to join the Guard?"  Sans shrugged a little, leaning his head on his hand and glancing over at Papyrus.

"...part-time, mostly," he replied.  "As badly as I want to shelter Papyrus away forever, it's unrealistic and counterproductive to his recovery.  He's a born warrior, and he needs an outlet sometimes.  He might not have Dad's hair-trigger temper, but it's there, if you push him far enough.  And sometimes he pushes himself to that point without meaning to."  He rubbed his nasal bone, sighing.  "I can tell he's going to have outbursts during his recovery, and it won't be healthy to just smother them down.  So...if it's a 'get your hands dirty' crew you need in your Guard, I'll do it.  Papyrus will do it.  That way, he still has work, but he's not overburdened with it."

Alphys nodded, tenting her fingertips thoughtfully.  "...it's true, too much work in the Guard might set him back some," she said.  "But even though serving under you would make him happy, a guy has to have hobbies of his own, and you'd only be in the Guard part-time.  Is the other part still going to be in the labs?"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"My point is, why not find him some work there too?"  Alphys shrugged, glancing back at Papyrus.  "Anything relatively scientific he has an interest in?"

"You mean other than a disturbingly fanboyish attachment to Mettaton?  Not really."

"....what, seriously?  Papyrus has a fancrush on METTATON?  Totally wouldn't have pegged him as the type."

"Don't remind me."

 Alphys bit back a snort, picking her glass back up and draining it.  "Then why not give him that job watching Mettaton and Napstaton's routines and finding any glitches or flaws in their forms?  I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"...how do you know I have that job?"

"...Undyne...may have mentioned it to me a few times.  She knows how much you dislike them."

"I'm going to gut her by the gills one of these days, I swear..."

* * *

 

It was difficult, getting this new life of theirs started.  There was so much trial and error, so many unknowns to face and adapt to, and Sans was certain that if he didn't have Papyrus by his side through all of it, he would very possibly have gone on a murderous rampage.

The worst of it all was the fact that the scandal surrounding Papyrus still had not died down, and Sans was sure it never truly would.  But Sans knew that keeping Papyrus locked away would do more harm than good, and strove to keep going out with Papyrus on a daily basis, keeping things as normal--to him--as possible.  Papyrus, ever immersed in his role as the servant, paid no heed to the gossip that went on within earshot and instead kept to himself.  Sans often found himself wondering what Papyrus had going on in his head in order to not so much as flinch at the hateful gossip, and was often envious of the fact.

He stuck to Snowdin or the labs as often as he could; the people there had known the brothers longer than anyone, and had witnessed first-hand what would happen if someone so much as LOOKED at Papyrus wrong; the folks in Snowdin also never forgot that Papyrus, despite what the scandal pictures portrayed, was STILL the most formidable Monster that came out of the Guard, and for the most part, left the pair alone.

However, there WERE instances were more of the insistent and ballsy Monsters decided to give them a hard time; the most jarring thing Sans heard were inquiries as to how much he charged to 'rent' Papyrus out.  The very THOUGHT of anyone else putting a hand on Papyrus, let alone being PAID to do so, was physically sickening, and Sans would throw himself at whoever said such a thing and begin throwing out hits and attacks that would put a prison brawl to shame until either Alphys or Papyrus pulled him away.

More often than naught it was Papyrus who did so, and the younger Skeleton would sometimes get a few blows from Sans, who was often too blind with rage to know who exactly he was hitting.  Sans would later calm down and see the damage he inflicted on his brother and it took a good long time before he stopped feeling guilty about it, especially after talking to Papyrus about it after a particularly BAD TIME.

Slyrr, a Monster in the Royal Guard, had cornered Papyrus in the labs while on his rounds to gather up reports and was propositioning his former Captain to his face.  Sans didn't know exactly WHAT was said, but when he turned the corner and saw the Monster touch his little brother's face with those FILTHY claws--

He just saw RED.

One HP and a third of the Guard's size be damned, he had a running start before barreling into Slyrr, tackling him to the ground and attacking with his fists, his magic, his bone constructs--ANYTHING to inflict as much pain and draw as much blood as he possibly could.  Slyrr had apparently drawn out his fist to retaliate and Papyrus grabbed Sans away to avoid Sans getting hurt.  In a fit of blind rage, Sans had bashed Papyrus in the skull with a bone construct to the point of cracking his skull before coming to his senses.

After the RED, Sans remembered standing in the hallway with a large bone in his hand, Slyrr struggling to get up off of the floor, and Papyrus leaning back against the wall with his skull cracked and dripping marrow, eyelights flickering in a daze.  Sans looked down at his bone and saw it stained with marrow, his BROTHER'S marrow. 

He was SO close to having a nervous breakdown, but Papyrus lowered himself to his knees and turned his head to its uncracked side.  "...may I have another, m'Lord?" he asked, his voice dripping with desire and NEED.  The kind of NEED that Sans hadn't heard since Papyrus was last sane, and for a moment, he felt deeply touched that he had been able to bring that spirit back for the moment.  Sans reached out and touched his hand to the cracked section of skull, swirling his phalanges in the marrow and seeing Papyrus let out a rattling purr and nuzzle his hand.

He was snapped back into reality when Slyrr shot at them that they were 'disgusting freaks', and Sans was honestly more angry over the ruined state of his and Papyrus's moment than his little brother's bashed skull.  He sent a volley of bones at Slyrr until the Monster was tripping ass-over-tit to get out before taking Papyrus to his office to fix him up.

Guilt bubbled in his soul as he gathered up what he needed to help heal Papyrus, which would take some time with that sort of head wound considering he used most of his magic reserves beating the shit out of Slyrr.  He kept berating himself, hating himself for getting Papyrus caught in the crossfire of his temper again and again--and this time Papyrus might have a crack scar to show for it! 

"...I'm sorry, Papyrus," he said quietly, dabbing the red marrow away.  "I really fucked up this time...shit, and if Slyrr goes to Toriel about this--"

"I'll tell her the truth, m'Lord," Papyrus quietly cut in.  "I'll tell her I like it."  He leaned his head against Sans's hand again, nuzzling it lovingly, his bones rattling with purring again.  "I'll tell her I welcome m'Lord's blows...that I willingly shed my marrow for you because it brings me pleasure."  His eyelights flicked up to Sans, shining brightly albeit still dazedly.  "...because it really IS the truth, m'Lord.....this..."  He reached up, pressing Sans's hand against his cracked area more firmly.  "...really DOES make me feel good..."

"Papyrus..."  Sans pressed his phalanges in deeper, feeling the cracks and chips shift slightly.  "...you're being truthful?  You're not just saying that to please me?"  Papyrus nodded, his breathing slightly rattly.

"I would never lie to m'Lord," he purred.  "I WANT it"

Sans leaned forward, pressing his skull against Papyrus's.  "...then I'll give it to you," he said.  "But I want you to be mindful of your HP, Papyrus.  If it goes below five, I want you to tell me."  He paused.  "...You'll tell me 'game over'.  Understood?"

Papyrus nodded.  "Yes, m'Lord," he agreed, then paused as though thinking about something.  "....I am only at thirty-one now, m'Lord..." he continued, hardly bothering to keep the slyness out of his voice.  Sans snorted at the lack of discretion paired with the puppyish expression Papyrus was giving him.

"Very well," he said, then shoved Papyrus back on the desk and picked up a plexor he kept stashed on the side.  "You're still hurt, Papy.  Good thing the doctor is in right now to help fix you up."

In hindsight, perhaps he should have locked the door.  He was sure the intern sent by Alphys to fetch him was sure to not get the images they saw out of their head for a very long time.

* * *

 

Days when he wasn't in the labs were spent with Alphys in training practice, and being honest, Sans could see why Papyrus initially enjoyed his time in the Royal Guard before it all went to shit.  There was a certain RUSH he got while fighting that he was hard-pressed to find a comparison for, the closest he could get was playing out a scene with Papyrus.  But there was more to it than that.  He was using his own power, pushing his own limits, and stretching proverbial muscles he didn't even know he had but godDAMN if he turned out to actually be talented at it.

They had to set up something customized to edge around his 1 HP, but focusing on evasive maneuvers paired with distance attacks and untouchable barriers worked out perfectly.  He turned out to be crackerjack at dodging with Alphys unable to come anywhere near him, and focused his energy on evading and using his magic in a better-stylized combative manner.

Papyrus was a fantastic help in that area; Sans was shamed to admit that while he DID teach Papyrus a few things concerning Skeleton magic when they were little, he never really saw Papyrus in combat before, being too busy in the labs to look in on any of that.  His little brother had a finesse and power on the battlefield that was amazing to behold, and Sans couldn't even remember their own father being that amazing.  It was no wonder Papyrus had been chosen to be the Captain.

Sans himself had less of a finesses and more of a...well, Alphys described it as 'barrelling right the fuck in and wiping everything out'.  Her style, actually.  She seemed proud to take him under her wing in that aspect.

Being honest, Sans found himself actually LIKING Alphys because of their shared bloodlust and shameless weight-throwing around.  Not to mention she could keep up with his drinking and come to find that during a drinking binge after training, they had exchanged sex tips, to his everlasting mortification.

He would've been more wary of his budding friendship with her, fearful that it was detrimental to Papyrus's recovery, but he needn't have worried, considering Papyrus had found an unlikely friend of his own in Undyne.

Alphys had been onto something when she suggested Papyrus do something in the labs to occupy his time while Sans worked, and after catching wind of Undyne needing to create new upgrades for both Mettaton and Napstaton, Sans convinced Undyne to let Papyrus help, assuring her that Papyrus never missed a single MTT/NTT program and had an encyclopedic knowledge of the two that would prove helpful. 

Come to find, he wasn't wrong.  Papyrus had taken the basic forms of the two mechs and drew up something more flashy and streamlined but could also have several deadly combative aspects.  Undyne returned the day after Papyrus left the upgrade sketches in her lab and said that Mettaton and Napstaton had ADORED his ideas and practically begged Sans to let her borrow Papyrus for a bit to help build them, even if he only allowed it by having Alphys supervise while he worked for a few hours.

Walking into Undyne's work lab to find Papyrus elbow-deep in mechanics and holding an independent conversation with someone other than Sans did something good for the older Skeleton.  Papyrus was reinventing himself socially and honing a trade skill that would no doubt provide him with a good rehabilitating hobby, and Sans couldn't be happier.

Despite how fulfilling it was for both him and Papyrus to have something new to reinvent themselves with and new friends to help along the way, Sans still preferred the days when it was just him and Papyrus.  He looked forward to the days when they would spend time together and indulge in their desires.  Even days when Sans would just walk around Snowdin with Papyrus trailing behind were perfectly fine, since everyone in Snowdin was wise enough to leave the two alone.

Papyrus didn't say much during their outings, content to just walk and look around.  Sans kept his eyelights out on Papyrus for visual cues, keying in on if Papyrus was being overwhelmed, needed a rest, or was just displaying interest in something in the shops.  More often than naught, it was the latter.  Ever since it was made legal that Papyrus was his property, the younger Skeleton was now no longer able to make a living from anything, and thus all of the payment for his labors went to Sans.

Not wanting his brother to be without, Sans made it his personal mission to watch out for things Papyrus displayed strong interest in.  So far, the thing Papyrus appreciated most was a beautiful coat Sans gifted him with after Papyrus stared longingly at it during an errand in the Capitol.  It was a pricey thing; slightly oversized, black leather, and lined with silky fur, it was a coat more fitting for someone's sugarbaby, but Papyrus's eyelights just GLIMMERED when he saw it.

Giving it to Papyrus later that day was worth the price it was, seeing Papyrus stare at it for several long moments before hugging it to him with such happiness he looked ready to burst before tugging it on.  On Papyrus's broad frame it fit comfortably but fittingly, outlining Papyrus's shape beautifully while still maintaining a function of keeping him warm, and Papyrus seemed too grateful for words.

Sans was sure he spoiled Papyrus rotten, wanting to see that joyous expression again and again, but it was all completely worth it.  After all of the pain, the hurt, and the horrors that they had been through, he figured the two of them deserved a bit of spoiling for quite some time to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flipping the Script is coming to a close now, with just the epilogue to go! ;a; Wow, has it been a wild ride! I'll span out the epilogue for a few more days, so it wont feel like it's ending all at once.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhmigod. I can't believe it's already over! ;a; I had a BLAST with this, and everyone's reviews and support was ASTONISHING! Seriously, each and every individual one of you, THANK YOU! I hope my next project is as enjoyable and traumatizing as this had been! *hugs all of you* Welp, here, as promised, is the epilogue! Read, enjoy, and I'll see you next time in my new fic 'Not My Brother'!

The bar extension of the MTT/NTT Resort and Dance Club was at its weekend peak, packed to the brim and being waited over by the bar owner Grillby. Drink orders were flying left and right with the influx of customers, most of whom were Guard trainees experiencing their first taste of semi-freedom outside of their rigid training lifestyle. Every year, the trainees were given a weekend of leave, and most of them flocked to the resort for some unwinding before returning back for final graduation.

As good for business as it was, Grillby HATED Leave Weekend; the trainees were like wild beasts, they ruined his bar, scuffed up his décor, and were stingy as hell with their tips. If it wasn't for Captain Alphys paying for damages, he would ban them from his bar until they learned some goddamn manners.

Grillby sent out a Pyrope waiter with some drinks for a table, inwardly cringing when he heard a glass break somewhere and was about to send someone to clean it up when the door to his bar was flung open and the bar slowly went quiet.

Standing in the doorway were two Skeletons whose auras easily overwhelmed that of the rest of the combined Monsters in the bar, especially the smaller one in front. He was wearing a set of custom-made armor paired with comfortable leather clothing, severe-looking heeled boots, and a red bandanna wrapped around his neck that had darker red patches staining it, and no one really wanted to know what made those stains. Despite the odd arrangement of the outfit, it was clean, tidy, and very well-maintained. It was a severe clash with the rest of him, his bones having nicks and scars and his skull sporting a large crack over the left eyesocket and all of his teeth having been filed to sharp points.

Behind him was a much taller Skeleton who was wearing a pair of frayed denim jeans, scuffed sneakers, and an orange sweater under a coat that looked like it had once been luxurious but now seen better days. The sleeve cuffs were trimmed back and rolled up his forearms and the bottom was shredded and frayed. Around his cervical vertebrae was an old, cracked and faded black collar that looked two tugs away from falling apart. Contrarywise to the smaller Skeleton, whose electric-blue eyelights were surveying the bar, his own golden-orange ones were pinned to the one in the lead, a large sharp golden canine tooth glinting in the dim light.

The pair walked into the bar, the sound of the smaller Skeleton's heels clicking on the floor being the loudest sound in there as he led the way across the room and over to a table in the back that was occupied by four trainee Monsters, his hands resting on his iliac spines as he looked them over.

“You're sitting at our table,” he said, giving them a haughty glare that plainly said he thought it no better to be speaking to cockroaches. “Move.”

One of the trainees, a Tiger Monster, bared his teeth and lurched upward, only to be held back by the Monster sitting next to him. “Kann, are you CRAZY?!” the Monster hissed, looking almost fearful. “Do you have any idea who that IS!?”

“A pile of DUST, that's what!” Kann snapped, jerking away and reaching out for the small Skeleton again, only to have his arm grabbed, pulled forward, and a stilettoed boot slammed into his gut with enough force for the heel to pierce through his clothes and skin, a pool of blood forming on the ground before he even followed suit. To add insult to injury, the Skeleton stomped his boot on the Tiger Monster's head, grinding it into the ground.

“Get this piece of trash out of here,” he said, giving the other three Monsters at the table a sharp look. The Monster who tried to stop Kann before jumped up and picked him up, hurrying off, the other two following quickly. The Skeleton sat back on a chair, raising the boot he had used to pierce the Tiger. “Get his filthy blood off me.”

The taller Skeleton knelt down, holding the boot delicately in his hands as he leaned down and began licking the blood off of the heel.

The display was stared at in disgusted, albeit fascinated awe, murmurs breaking out almost fearfully.

“Holy shit, is that—?”

“It is!”

“It's HIM, it's Sans the Assassin!”

“Is that REALLY Papyrus?”

“What are they doing HERE?”

Sans ignored the murmuring, pushing the sole of his boot against Papyrus's face. “Enough,” he said. “Sit on the chair.” He sat back as Papyrus nodded and sat on the chair opposite to Sans, his head bowed demurely.  Sans raised his hand, summoning over a waiter and placing orders for drinks.  "A glass of light cream and blackberry liquor syrup for him, and fire vodka for me.  Leave the bottle," he said, slapping down some gold onto the table.  The waiter nodded and hurried off to get the drinks, and Sans reclined back in the chair, ignoring the yammering around him and focusing on Papyrus.

He supposed it HAD been awhile since he and Papyrus had been out in the general public like this; they preferred their privacy and usually took a shortcut from work to home, sticking to Snowdin for outings for the most part until they were needed for work.

As for the work, it varied based on the need of the moment.  Most of his time was spent between his personal physics work and home while Papyrus practically became Undyne's second-in-command in the engineering department.  Although he TECHNICALLY didn't work there, Undyne pulled a few strings and had Papyrus's labor in the labs written off as 'borrowing' him from Sans and had him properly compensated, making a very tidy profit for himself.  However with recent developments, Papyrus was regaining his independent citizenship and would be earning his own money.

But when the need arose...well, Sans wouldn't call himself an ASSASSIN, per se, but sometimes the higher-ups needed things taken care of that the Guard couldn't be seen handling.  He never went it alone, always bringing Papyrus with him.  Witnesses to their work would describe them as working perfectly in sync, Sans as dangerous as a dagger thrown in the dark and always having his back watched and protected by the immovable Papyrus, who was a terror to be reckoned with if given the command to do so.

It was a double-edged sword that Sans was glad to live with.  He would take the reputation his work gave him if it meant Monsters would leave them alone when they were out in public.  In fact, he couldn't even say his side of things was edged; he LOVED his reputation.  He was respected, feared, and had control of the most powerful attack dog in the Underground, not to mention he was worshiped and loved by Papyrus.

Sans sat up when the drinks were brought over, grabbing the bottle and guzzling it back as Papyrus delicately sipped his own drink.  Three years out of the major public eye, he thought it was time to assert himself and Papyrus properly.

If they had to tear a few limbs off to do so, then so be it.

* * *

 

Papyrus knew that his Lord was in a good mood today; better than usual.  Stopping by Grillby's bar in the Resort for drinks before having some fun in Napstaton's dance club was good enough for today, but when his Lord held up a golden room key and told him that he booked the suite for the weekend, Papyrus thought he would keel over from happiness. 

Seeing the luxurious suite that was all THEIRS for the next three days put him on his knees, his forehead leaning against his Lord's boot as he thanked him over and over.  Sans allowed the prostration before lifting Papyrus's head with the tip of his boot, giving his brother a smile.  "You've been a very good boy, Papy," he purred.  "So good that you deserve some gifts."  He stepped back, walking over to the bed where there was a black box sitting on the end and picking it up.  "Come here."

Papyrus crawled over until he was kneeling almost flush to Sans's knees as Sans sat back and turned the box around, opening it up to show Papyrus.  The younger Skeleton's eyelights glimmered when he saw that inside was a large thick black collar decorated with golden spikes, a thick black leash circling it.  "...oh...m'Lord..." 

Sans smiled, reaching over and undoing the thin torn collar from around Papyrus's neck and letting it drop before taking the new one out and latching it into place.  "Very handsome," he said, stroking Papyrus's face before training his hand down and hooking a finger into the loop of the collar, tugging upward.  "You're such a good, deserving boy," he crooned, smiling at the flush of orange that dusted Papyrus's cheekbones.  He leaned down, nuzzling the top of Papyrus's skull.  "I'll always take care of you, you know that, right?"  He shifted back on the bed, tugging tighter on the collar loop to signal Papyrus to come up with him. 

"I love you more than anything else in the world."  He scraped his sharpened teeth over Papyrus's face.  "I would kill for you."  He formed a tongue, tracing Papyrus's maxilla crack with it, all the way up to the eye socket.  "I would spit in the King's eye for you."

"M...m'Lord..." Papyrus whimpered, his face flushed dark orange, his arms shaking from hoisting himself up over Sans, who picked up the leash and hooked it to the loop, wrapping the other end around his hand.

"I would get you anything you desire, Papy," he growled, tugging on the leash.  "So tell me, what is it my good, beautiful servant desires?  What can I get for you?"

Papyrus let out a strangled whine, burying his face into Sans's armored shoulder.  ".....you, m'Lord...!" he said, his hands clenching tightly into the duvet.  "I want YOU.......you're all I EVER want...!"  He nuzzled against Sans's face, panting softly.  "...m'Lord...I love you..."

Sans smiled, turning his head to press his teeth against Papyrus's.  "I love you too, Papyrus," he replied, tugging on the leash harder.  "I'll show you how MUCH I love you, by letting you pick what we do for tonight."

"...really...?" Papyrus asked, eyelights shining.  Sans nodded, reclining back to wait for Papyrus to make his mind up.  Finally, Papyrus smiled.  "...I want to do what started all of this, m'Lord," he said, blushing softly.

"Oh?" Sans replied, amused at Papyrus's darling bashfulness.  "Very well, then."  He raised his foot and shoved Papyrus onto his back, grinning as he undid his belt and slid his shorts down his legs, kicking them off carelessly before shifting over to Papyrus, straddling him with his knees on either side of Papyrus's skull.  "Get to it, then."

Papyrus purred, forming his tongue and slithering it against Sans's pubis, working to get his Lord riled up enough to form his magic.  It took almost no effort; Papyrus was talented with his tongue and it took little convincing before Sans's magic coalesced into a sensitive mass around Papyrus's tongue.  Sans groaned, his hand clenching around the leash tightly as he fought to keep his composure; regardless of his role as Lord, the things Papyrus did with his tongue were almost unnatural, and drove him closer to the edge faster than anything else.

He braced his free hand on the top of Papyrus's skull, his breath coming out in short, controlled pants as he rocked his hips to Papyrus's mouth, his femurs shaking as he fought to remain upright.  "You-- _ahh_ \--know just what to do to please your Lord...!" he praised, tugging on the collar hard.  "You're so talented, so GOOD at making your Lord feel good!"  His spine arched when Papyrus shoved his tongue up harder and curled it, his face flushing dark blue as he let out a guttural groan.

Papyrus's eyelights flickered brightly at the praise, raising his hands and clenching them around Sans's femurs tightly as his magic flared in his right eye socket, the tongue in his mouth becoming more tentacle-like and even split into three different tendrils, each one independently squirming in different directions.  Sans let out a sharp scree as he almost arched back in half, just BARELY able to keep from screaming Papyrus's praises about his perfect magic control.  Instead, he clenched his jaw tightly and bucked his hips faster, pulling on the leash hard as he came, gushing blue magic over Papyrus's face.

He pitched forward, bracing his free hand on the bed as he caught his breath, his hips still twitching hard.  "G-good boy...!" he gasped, arching his hips back.  "Clean...clean up the mess you made, and I'll let you pick what else you want to do."  He let out a shaky sigh, growling softly as Papyrus's tongue lapped up the magic residue from his bones and shifted out from under him.  He stretched out a little, enjoying the simmer of his afterglow only to buck back with a yelp when Papyrus mounted him like a dog beast and began rutting against him desperately.

"Shit--" he swore, pulling on the leash hard, Papyrus's collar forcing the larger Skeleton to bridge over him almost entirely.  "Getting a little ballsy there, Papy."  He ground his pelvis back against Papyrus's, growling when he felt the tingling spark of Papyrus's ectoplasmic cock.  "Come on then, fuck me like the dog beast you are!"  His body jerked forward when Papyrus slammed into him and immediately began a fast, desperate pace, hearing Papyrus pant above him.  He felt Papyrus saliva drip onto the top of his skull, pulling on the leash harder.  "I SAID FUCK ME, YOU DOG!"

Papyrus let out a loud keening moan, clenching his hands tightly into Sans's ilia as he drove into his Lord harder, feeling his cervical vertebrae strain and chafe from being pulled on and hoped it left marks for later.  His Lord loved kissing over all of his marks, and he loved his Lord's kisses almost as much as his Lord's pain infliction.  His hips bucked faster, feeling more saliva drip down his jaw.  "M-m'Lord, I'm--"

"Don't you FUCKING dare!" Sans snapped, his voice breathless.  "You will NOT finish before me!"  He heard Papyrus let out a loud whimper and thrust faster, trying to push him further to the edge, and focused all of his attention on holding back his own orgasm.  Drawing it out for Papyrus only made things SO much more better for him.

He wasn't disappointed; less than a minute and a half later, Sans felt Papyrus's magic CHANGE in the ectoplasm, bracing himself for what came next.  Still, no matter how many times he prepared himself, it still overwhelmed him when Papyrus's ectoplasm shifted like his tongue had, expanding out into tendrils both inside and out of Sans, the ones on the outside snapping around any exposed bones and holding on tightly as Papyrus's breathing grew more winded and beastlike, growls rattling his frame.  Any self-control Sans had went out the window when Papyrus's tentacles came out to play, and he allowed himself to screech and moan to his soul's content as he orgasmed again, this time from both his conjured genitals and his soul.

As soon as he felt his Lord's soul orgasm, Papyrus lost his own self-control, pinning Sans down to the bed by the shoulders and driving into him furiously, his tendrils tightening almost to the point of cracking bone as he came too, collapsing on top of Sans right after, his magic spent.  The tendrils slowly unfurled and vanished, as did both his and Sans's ectoplasmic constructs as the brothers shook and basked in the afterglow contently.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Papyrus rolled off of Sans and laid out on his back, amused at discovering the mirror above their bed as he weakly fished around his jacket and took out his back of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a long drag before wordlessly passing it over to Sans who sat up just enough to take a drag of his own. 

After exhaling the smoke, Sans said, "This shit's disgusting, you know," before shifting over and resting his head on Papyrus's rib cage, feeling his little brother's soul pulse softly.  Papyrus curled his arm around Sans, watching his own movements in the mirror as he polished off his cigarette and laid there contently.  Sans smiled, brushing his fingers over Papyrus's spine.  "...Happy birthday, Paps."

Papyrus let out a happy purr, nuzzling Sans's head.  "Only you can make it happy, Sans," he replied.  He let out a deep sigh, grinning.  "What do you have planned for my birthday weekend?"

Sans's smile broadened, trailing his hand lower to Papyrus's pelvis.  "Oh, so much," he drawled.  "Anything you want, Papyrus, and everything."

"...did you bring your tools?"

"Oh, Papyrus..."  Sans shifted from Papyrus and scooted to the other side of the bed, reaching down and picking up a large, heavy case and opening it.  "You insult me, really."  He pulled out a hammer and a length of heavy chains.  "And for insulting your Lord, you deserve a beating or a thrashing.  But since it's your birthday, I'll let you pick which one."

The bright smile on Papyrus's face let him know that there would hardly be any rest going on for this birthday weekend, and he couldn't be any happier for it.

 


End file.
